


Forget Me Not

by sgcgategirl



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-15
Updated: 2003-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 156,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgcgategirl/pseuds/sgcgategirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standard SG-1 luck. A mission to a peaceful planet goes terribly wrong when SG-1 meet up with an ancient people transported from Celtic Europe. Not everyone is who they seem to be and memories cannot be trusted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Were it not better to forget, than but remember and regret?"

—Letitia Elizabeth Landon, "Despondency"

 

"But men are men; the best sometimes forget."

—Shakespeare, "Othello"

 

**Chapter One**

Colonel Jack O’Neill scowled as he looked at his watch for the third time in less than a minute. Dr. Daniel Jackson, linguist and resident expert on the history of the Stargate and just about anything ancient, was late again. Recently, it had become a habit. O’Neill glanced over at Major Samantha Carter, his second in command and a brilliant astrophysicist to boot, who stood talking quietly with Teal’c. Come to think of it, they’d been doing a lot of that lately, too, O’Neill noted absently, resisting the urge to squeeze the bridge of his nose to ease the headache he felt coming on. It was too early in the day for that. He glanced back at Carter and Teal’c, envious of their ease, their serenity. They also had the patience of saints, unlike their team leader.

"Carter, when was the last time you saw Daniel?" O’Neill asked sharply, walking down the ramp to where the other two stood at the door of the embarkation room.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes full of accusations. He knew his tone was severe—had been for days now—but he didn’t care. He was sure that she was labeling today as another one of "those" days. He could even see the quotation marks hanging in the space between them. When was the last time they had actually had fun as a team—as friends even? It had been a long time. He missed Carter’s smile, Daniel’s laugh, and Teal’c’s amused gazes. He knew it was his fault—everything was his fault. From one screwed up mission to another, these days it seemed like that was all they ever got. Unfriendly natives, bloodthirsty Jaffas, insane goa’ulds, it was always the same. First contact wasn’t the picnic it had once appeared to be. Bad command decisions—his bad command decisions—continued to pile up. Injuries—near-death injuries to his team and others—continued to escalate. His bad command decisions cost lives. His bad decisions always came back to haunt him, keeping him awake at night as he relived them over and over again in all their gory details.

Fun? What was that? Maybe that was the problem. Too much fun, not enough concentration on the mission at hand. Too bad, O’Neill thought bitterly. Fun was definitely not on the agenda today, and to top things off, Daniel was already pissing him off and they hadn’t even left the planet yet. He realized Carter had started speaking and jerked himself quickly back to reality.

"…I left him in the locker room changing. He said he had to make a quick stop at his lab to pick something up," Carter said. She hesitatingly continued, her face plainly showing her conflicting emotions. He knew she wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to hear. "That was about twenty minutes ago, sir," She was fingering the pocket on her vest nervously. O’Neill hadn’t seen her do that in a long time.

"Twenty minutes ago," O’Neill mumbled under his breath turning toward the Stargate. He sighed and looked beseechingly toward the ceiling. Twenty minutes? God, it felt like an hour, he thought absently rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. He could feel Carter’s eyes digging into him. An awkward silence stretched between them before she spoke again.

"Colonel, do you want me to go and get him?"

He exhaled sharply and turned to her, his hand dropping quickly to his side. He felt like he had just gotten scolded. Her tone was all business, lacking the familiar easiness they had developed over the years. When all else failed she fell back on her military training and the fact that she was using it now surprised him. He looked—really looked—at her before answering. She looked tired, drained even. He hadn’t noticed that before. Honestly, he hadn’t taken the time to notice, too caught up with his own troubles and distractions. Concern for him filled her blue eyes. She was always so real. He could always trust her. He trusted her to watch his six. He trusted her with his life. Usually, she knew exactly what to say or do to make him feel better, but this time was different: he wasn’t giving her any clues and she was worried. It showed in her posture—from her tired expression to her pain-filled eyes to her shoulders rounded in defeat…Defeat? Had he been that bad? Had she finally given up on him? It wouldn’t surprise him; everyone eventually gave up on him. He had hoped…had thought…that this time it might be different.

He almost took her up on the offer, but for some reason, felt compelled to get the errant archeologist himself. "No, Carter, I’ll get him. It’s my turn anyway. You got him the last time." He smiled briefly without humor and started toward the door. "Besides, it’s time we had one of our little chats."

"Chats? Are you sure…" Carter turned to face him, and he realized that her worried expression was more for Daniel’s sake than his own. That fact sunk his spirits further still. Even worse than the pity he saw in many people’s eyes these days was the hint of suspicion that somehow he had changed so dramatically that he could actually harm Daniel—or any member of his team. Had he really lost their trust? He sighed softly in resignation as he stepped through the door of the gate room, glancing back to see Teal’c’s eyebrows start their journey upward.

He paused briefly in the doorway and waved his hand, abruptly cutting Carter off, his tone sharper than was necessary. "Don’t worry about it, Carter. When I mean talk, I mean talk. I won’t hurt him if that’s what you think." His eyes were dark, tossing accusations at his second in command, daring her to argue with him. When she shifted her gaze downward, he knew he was right. His own team didn’t trust him anymore. He turned back to the drab corridor disgusted with himself for thinking that this team would have been any different than any other he’d commanded. It was just a matter of time before they realized what everyone else had over the years.

"I’ll be right back." He threw his last words over his shoulder as he strode down the hall. He could almost picture her trying, without success, to explain to Teal’c why a chat could be considered dangerous to Daniel Jackson’s health. Before, that would have brought a smile to his face, but things were different now. He was different.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Carter sighed as she watched her CO walk down the hallway until he turned the corner and was lost to her sight. Over the past few weeks he had been more difficult than usual. Granted, she realized, he was normally a little stand-offish, but even his attempts at humor—as rare as they had become—were sharper, more pointed; less like humor and more like direct criticisms.

He was a tough nut to crack on a good day, but when he retreated into his shell the way he was doing now it was nearly impossible for anyone to get through. Usually Daniel was able to weasel his way in, breaking through the walls the Colonel had put up. This time, however, no matter what he tried, no matter which way he went, Daniel was getting nowhere. It was as if Colonel O’Neill had special Daniel sensors installed, alerting him to when Daniel was playing mother hen. If anything, the Colonel’s mood had been hardest on Daniel. In many ways, they were as close as brothers with Daniel playing the role of the younger sibling to O’Neill’s older brother routine. It still served as an oddity among many on base of how they—two opposites—could get along so well.

Sam quickly glanced over at Teal’c’s hulking figure to find him looking at her strangely. "Major Carter, are you unwell?"

She realized she was frowning and still staring after O’Neill even though he was long since gone. She sighed softly, looking Teal’c directly in the eye. She knew he was worried about her and the team. They’d talked a lot over the past week—ever since Jack…Colonel O’Neill had gotten weird, for lack of a better term. They’d been through some tough times over the years but they’d muddled through his moods. One day he could charm a monkey out of a tree and the next day it took pliers and several attempts at extraction to get even the slightest reaction from him. This was several times worse.

She knew he had been to the edge and back too many times to count and some days they came back to haunt him. Some days were harder on him than others, especially when it concerned his son Charlie. He had never forgiven himself for Charlie’s death, she knew. Guilt and longing were in his eyes every time they made first contact, especially if there were kids involved. It didn’t matter if the boys didn’t look anything like his son, when Jack looked at them, that was all he saw—the smiling face of his dead son. He saw the life that could have been, that should have been.

"I’m okay, Teal’c. Just worried about the Colonel."

Teal’c inclined his head toward her. "O’Neill is a brave and stalwart warrior and a fine leader. I am convinced he will prevail in this battle as he has done on numerous occasions."

"I know. I’m still worried. He’s never been like this for so long." She shook her head and shrugged without coming up with a better explanation. "It’s just not like him."

Teal’c examined her carefully for a moment before speaking again. "I, too, am worried Major Carter."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Grasping his P90 in both hands to stop it from swinging O’Neill’s purposeful stride and determined expression kept greetings to a minimum. As tough and hard as he appeared, he knew he had many loyal friends among the SGC personnel—which surprised him. He knew from first hand experience that there were many that would put their life on the line to help him. More times than he could count, other teams had volunteered to help him and his team when they got into trouble—which seemed to happen more and more.

But today, his demeanor and field BDUs prevented anyone from stopping him. Lately, even those who were inclined to stop him to say hello stayed away. News spread fast among SGC personnel and these days the message was simple, "Stay clear of Colonel O’Neill."

He approached Daniel’s office quietly. Black ops training had forced him to develop that habit, and it was a hard one to break. The door was open, so he took that as an invitation to snoop. It was what he was here to do anyway. Looking in, he noticed that Daniel was nowhere to be found. The piles of artifacts and papers appeared to be in the same place he remembered seeing them—not that he paid attention to what was on Daniel’s desk most of the time. It always amazed him that Daniel could get so much work done in an office that did such a good impression of the aftereffects of a passing F5 tornado.

He hesitated inside the door, glancing around furtively. His forehead creased, a frown of confusion finally finding its way to his face. Where was Daniel? Without him in the room, Jack felt awkward just wandering in. He could. He knew Daniel wouldn’t mind, but knowing his luck, he’s just end up breaking some priceless artifact. Besides, who needed an agitated archeologist griping for days?

He had almost turned around and given up, thinking Daniel must already be on his way to the gateroom when he finally spotted Daniel—at least the bottom half of him—sticking out of the closet in the back of the room. O’Neill grinned mischievously, a glint of glee in his eye. This might be fun, he thought, at least for a brief moment. Even in a bad mood, Jack never passed up an opportunity to pick on his favorite archeologist.

Jack cleared his throat quietly, trying not to disturb the scene playing out before him. Knowing Daniel, he wouldn’t hear anything short of a loaded freight train rumbling through his office—and even then, Jack had his doubts. "Dr. Jackson, just what do you think you’re doing?" O’Neill yelled in the strongest military voice he could manage. He was rewarded instantaneously.

A dull thump and muffled curse from inside the closet was heard and Daniel Jackson eased himself out, a dusty book in hand. He turned to O’Neill whose smirk had been replaced by a disapproving scowl. Daniel rubbed the top of his head where he had smacked it against the metal shelf. "Jack, why did you have to go and do that?" Daniel asked aggravated. "Why can’t you ever grow up?"

O’Neill’s eyes hardened in response and he replied, his tone severe, all business. While he normally found intense pleasure in annoying Daniel, these days the thrill was gone. Some people just knew how to suck the fun out of everything and Daniel was one of them. "Daniel, what time was our mission this morning?"

"0700. Why?" Daniel answered automatically, an innocent expression on his face as he absently rubbed his head. He removed his glasses and pressed the heel of his free hand into one of his eyes. Jack knew that early mornings were not the best time for discussions like these, especially when Daniel had yet to have a full cup of coffee. It was one of those mornings, Jack noted, spotting Daniel’s first cup of the day sitting on the desk, half-full and cold.

"Do you know what time it is?" He was trying to be patient and calm, but it wasn’t easy. Those qualities were found in spades in both Carter and Teal’c while impatience was usually residing closer to home. He gripped his P90 tighter picturing in his mind’s eye his hands snaking around Daniel’s neck. If Daniel noticed the gesture, which was a distinct possibility, he pointedly ignored it.

"Oh, I don’t know, Jack," Daniel said exasperated. "0710? 0715? What does it matter? I had to get some stuff before we left." Daniel replaced the glasses on his nose before he turned his attention to the book he held, attempting to clean the dust off without sneezing.

O’Neill sighed loudly as he watched the cloud of dust heading his way. Things never changed. No matter how much time passed, with Daniel things always stayed the same; he did everything his way and in his own time. Jack waved his hand through the air, trying to dissipate the dust cloud before he started sneezing. That was all he needed—to show up in the gateroom with tear-filled eyes thanks to a sneezing fit and a lung-full of Daniel’s dust.

"Daniel, it’s nearly 0740 and Hammond, not to mention Carter and Teal’c, are waiting for you to grace us with your presence in the gateroom. Besides," he said his voice hardening and his eyes flashing with barely contained anger, "what can be so damn important that you can’t be on time?" The unspoken phrase, ‘for once in your life’ hung in the air, but by the tone of O’Neill’s voice it was as good as said. He took a breath before continuing trying to calm his already frayed nerves. This time his words were softer. "Daniel, God knows, I don’t ask a lot from you, especially since you’re not military, but punctuality is one of those things I do expect." When his words didn’t get an immediate reaction, his tone hardened once again. "Daylight’s burning. We need to move."

Daniel turned back to O’Neill an imploring expression on his face, his blue eyes wide behind his glasses. "Jack, ever since the briefing, I’ve had those ruins the MALP transmitted running through my mind. I’ve been trying to do a little research, but I haven’t found much. This morning when I was getting ready, I realized I had a book in here somewhere." He gestured widely toward the closet and the offending metal shelf. Daniel threw the book down on his desk and another puff of dust rose toward the ceiling. "And this is not it." He turned back to stare at the closet accusingly.

O’Neill was done. "Ack!" O’Neill’s sharp tone turned Daniel right back around. "Let’s go. Forget the stupid book. We need to make tracks. Now." O’Neill’s voice was unwavering. His patience was gone and it wasn’t time to belabor the point.

"Okay, okay. I’m coming. You know, you could have sent Sam." Daniel said, picking up his pack from where he dropped it on the floor nearly forty-five minutes ago.

"What?" O’Neill asked, giving Daniel an incredulous look as they made their way to the embarkation room. He had heard him, but wasn’t sure where Daniel was going with it.

"At least she would have helped me look."

O’Neill glared at Daniel, his eyes narrowing. "Does it surprise you that I’m a lot smarter than I look?" With only a few words he managed to render Daniel speechless and stop him in his tracks. Without pausing to wait for the younger man, O’Neill continued on to the gate room, letting Daniel struggle to catch up with him. How had he managed to get saddled with him in the first place? Intellectually, he knew the reasons why Daniel was on the team but lately his gut was telling him something else. What place did an archeologist have on a front line unit? Sometimes he wondered if it really was a good idea. This was one of those times.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Does it surprise you that I’m a lot smarter than I look?"

Daniel blanched, his mouth dropping open. He stopped dead in his tracks staring after the retreating back of one Colonel Jack O’Neill. An answer either way would not go over well and two days on an alien planet with an overbearing and annoyed Jack O’Neill was not what he had in mind. It was bad enough Jack had come to fetch him like some five-year-old that had gotten separated from his mother. Jack continued to treat him like a kid. The condescending tones and looks—especially as of late—had only gotten worse.

He tried to pick up the pace, but he knew it was a losing battle. Jack wasn’t one to make anything easy. It was bad enough that he had to struggle to keep Jack in sight, but he still had to pull on his vest and backpack, slowing his progress even further. No surprise there. Jack’s long legs and rushed pace made it close to impossible to catch up with him.

Daniel ran into the embarkation room huffing and puffing a little. Of course, Jack had decided to start without him.

"Okay kids," Jack said from his position at the base of the ramp as he adjusted his cap. "We’re all ready to go." O’Neill looked up to the control room where General George Hammond stood patiently waiting. "Sorry about the delay, sir. We’re ready to depart."

Hammond leaned forward and clicked on the microphone, his voice echoing through the gate room. "SG1, you have a go. I’ll see you in 36 hours. Good luck, people, and try to be on time." He didn’t smile, but Daniel knew that the remark was aimed at him. He glanced up at Hammond in surprise, trying not to glare. Was everyone out to get him this morning? Usually General Hammond refrained from taking potshots at him. At least Sam and Teal’c kept their comments to themselves. Sam’s eyes were compassionate when he finally turned to look at her. They both knew how Jack could be when he was in one of his moods, and from the looks of it this morning, they were in for a whopper. Whoever said women were the moody ones had never met Jack O’Neill—especially when he got up on the wrong side of the bed.

Who knows what had set this mood off, Daniel mused. He didn’t think there was anything special about today’s date, but then with Jack O’Neill anything was possible. He wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming person, especially when it came to his personal life. For all he knew, Daniel thought absently, it could be that Jack’s favorite deli had closed or he forgot to tape the Simpsons. The sound of the inside track of the Stargate spinning, locking the coordinates in place one by one, finally drew him back to the present.

"Aye, sir. We’ll be back in time for dinner." O’Neill said turning to face the Stargate. Out of habit, Jack adjusted his field jacket and vest, checking to make sure everything was in place. Sam and Teal’c stepped up beside him, standing an arm’s length away. Daniel scooted up behind them, trying to stay out of Jack’s way. His head still hurt where he’d smacked it against the shelf. He rubbed his hand lightly against the bump. At least it wasn’t bleeding, but he was going to have a nice bruise there by the end of the day, thanks to Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Jack glancing back at him. He knew he was in for something, most likely O’Neill’s sharp, sarcastic tongue.

"Danny boy, try and keep up. I’d hate to have to put a leash on you. Besides, I’m not sure if you’re housebroken."

Daniel glared back at Jack testily. Just what he needed; another astute remark from their fearless leader. The ka-whoosh of the gate opening delayed any other conversation. Besides, without a gallon of coffee in the morning, he felt as if he were still half-asleep—not exactly the best circumstances to make his usual witty remarks. He settled for shooting Jack one of his more annoyed looks, not that it did much good since Jack was already heading up the ramp.

"Let’s move out, kids. To grandma’s house we go," O’Neill chirped, stepping through the event horizon even before the blue liquid was still.

Teal’c raised his eyebrow, perplexed and turned to him. "What is this grandma’s house to which O’Neill indicated we are going?"

"Teal’c, don’t worry. Jack’s just trying to be funny," he said, watching Sam disappear through the gate, a half smile on her face. At least he could be sure that some things would always stay the same.

"Indeed," Teal’c said, stepping through the event horizon. Daniel glanced back briefly at the control room where General Hammond looked on, before he too stepped through to the other side.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Well kids, welcome to a rather moist P5X-171. Didn’t anyone think to check the weather before we got here?" O’Neill asked scanning the horizon and pulling his collar closer to his neck as water dripped down into his shirt. Just what he needed—another tree-filled planet. And to top it off, SG-1 had gated here during its rainy season. Joy.

Teal’c, off to his left, stood at attention, his staff weapon in hand, his eyes focused on the area around the gate. He was reliable like that, a tower of strength over the past few years. Unmovable. A rock.

Carter was already checking out the DHD. There had been too many times when they had almost gotten stranded because the DHD wouldn’t work. A number of times, they had spent the entire mission trying to figure out what was wrong with the device instead of scouting and exploring the area. Her curt nod indicated everything looked fine. Good. Check that off the list.

O’Neill heard rather than saw Daniel stumble down the stairs. The rocks strewn in front of the gate made for some tricky maneuvering, especially if you weren’t paying attention—and knowing Daniel, he probably was too busy looking at the scenery to notice. Jack wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but he had almost taken a nosedive and ended up sprawled in front of the gate when he came through. Thankfully, he was able to catch himself—and preserve whatever was left of his dignity before anyone saw him—one of the benefits of being the first one through. Although there were always times when being the first one through was problematic, especially when it involved unfriendly natives or an angry mob of Jaffa.

He peered through the fog and rain, trying to make out the tree line ahead of them. He hated trees and forests—especially off-world ones. They could hide countless Jaffa—battalions even. Forests had done so on many occasions before and they had been forced to learn the hard way. There really wasn’t much to see besides the MALP: some trees, the DHD, rocks scattered over the ground, and a few mounds of ruins back at the edge of the clearing. Daniel will be happy, Jack thought absently, more rocks for him to play with.

The piles of stones and boulders around the Stargate made travel difficult—especially since they were slick from the rain. If it had been a clear day, O’Neill was sure that the view from the steps in front of the Stargate would have been stunning. He remembered the footage from the mission briefing. It had looked fabulous on film. In person, everything was even more impressive. The Stargate stood on the side of a hill overlooking a lush valley, full of plant and animal life. If times were different, Jack could see himself retiring somewhere like this. It reminded him of his childhood and the untouched wildernesses back home in Minnesota. In its own way, it made him homesick, wishing for the simpler times—the simpler life he remembered. A life unencumbered by bad decisions. A life where he didn’t send his friends to their deaths at an enemy’s hand. A life where he hadn’t held a grudge against his best friend. A life where his son hadn’t killed himself with a carelessly hidden hand gun.

O’Neill heard the gate close behind Daniel and glanced back, squinting through the rain, to see the dirt and rock façade that made up the back of the gate. It was as if the gate was built directly into the side of the hill.

"Maybe it’s just a passing storm, sir. When they sent the MALP through earlier this morning, it was clear," said Carter from her position at the DHD, as if it were any consolation. She unclipped the pack from her back, letting it drop to the ground with a thud. She looked up, squinting as the rain hit her face.

"Jack," Daniel said, trying to clean his glasses on his shirt. He didn’t have much success and eventually gave up, tucking them away in a pocket. He zipped his field jacket up under his chin to prevent the rain from getting everything wet. When Daniel didn’t continue, O’Neill glanced back and realized that was what Daniel was waiting for. He indicated the ruins with his head. "I’m going to check them out. Might as well do something instead of standing here getting wet." He moved without waiting for approval, pulling his boonie hat down to cover more of his exposed neck.

O’Neill sighed and nodded. It was useless to argue at this point, besides, that was what they were here for. He unclipped his pack and knelt down on one knee to dig through it, safe in the knowledge that Teal’c and Carter were keeping an eye out. "Sure thing, Danny boy. Get right on that. I might recommend a rain poncho if I were you," he said, muttering to himself. He reattached his pack and slid the rain poncho over his head. Glancing at Teal’c who had already done the same, he caught his eye and pointed him toward the tree line with an outstretched hand. Teal’c moved immediately to comply. Nice that someone still follows orders around here, he thought. "Teal’c and I are going to take a look around. Carter," he said with a wave of his hand as he watched her shrug herself into her rain poncho, "do that thing you do. Keep regular checks every 30 minutes."

Carter nodded briskly. "Yes, sir." He flashed her a look of surprise at her tone and wondered vaguely if she was going to salute, too. Things had definitely changed. He turned on his heel and headed off to the right of the gate into the tree line. Seconds later both he and Teal’c were lost in the fog.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam watched Teal’c and O’Neill walk toward the tree line, only to be swallowed up whole by the fog and mist seconds later. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her attention back to her pack while her mind wandered, following her teammates as they weaved their way through the forest.

Things change, but some things always stay the same. Daniel’s enthusiasm, even in the pouring rain, was a constant, as was Colonel O’Neill’s exasperation with him. The Colonel’s overly protective nature would send Teal’c and him in circles if need be, but she knew she and Daniel would be safe. No matter what happened, that would always be a constant with him. He always thought about the team before he considered anything for himself. Day after day, she watched him put the needs and wants of his team first. Even if he had to sacrifice himself, the team would get home—she’d witnessed that first hand many times. Even O’Neill’s light attitude—if forced at times—was standard.

"Daniel," Sam said turning her attention back to the present. She spoke loud enough for her voice to carry over the distance and the weather. Everything seemed subdued here as if the very planet was holding its breath. She leaned down to the backpack at her feet and removed the sample vials for collecting dirt and soil samples. "What kept you this morning?"

She saw a look of puzzlement cross Daniel’s face as he concentrated on the mound of rocks in front of him. He had squatted down to get a closer look and was already lost in his world. She was pleasantly surprised to see that he had at least followed the Colonel’s suggestion and put on his rain poncho. "Uh…what Sam?" came the nebulous reply.

Sam smiled to herself. What a typical Daniel response, she thought, laughing to herself. Sit him in front of a rock or an inscription in an obscure dialect and he was in heaven. "When we were getting ready this morning, I thought you were going to be right behind me. What happened?" She moved cautiously across the uneven ground, looking for a good spot to snag some soil samples. Most of the dirt around the gate was hard packed and very rocky. Not the best place for soil samples. She spotted a promising area not too far from Daniel. At least they could continue their conversation without having to scream across the clearing. If there was anyone about—especially hostile natives—she didn’t want to announce herself, just in case Teal’c or the Colonel missed them. Unfortunately, that had also been known to happen.

When she glanced back at Daniel, he was sitting back on his heels, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the rain away. "Sam, I’ve been thinking about this planet ever since the briefing," he admitted, absently brushing some moss-like plant away from the inscriptions on the stones. "I tried to explain it to Jack, but he wasn’t in any mood to listen to me this morning." Daniel glanced up, catching Sam’s gaze. "What’s gotten into him lately? He’s been uptight—even more than usual." Sam shrugged in reply and he continued, absently staring at what his wandering fingers were uncovering. "Anyway, I’m not all that familiar with the Celtic culture, but I know I had some books on it. I was hoping to find one before we got here. I turned my apartment upside down last night looking for the books and I realized that I must have stored them at the base." He stopped speaking suddenly. His attention focused on what he uncovered. "Sam, come look at this." Daniel sounded excited, and when she looked up from what she was doing, he was frantically waving her over.

She moved quickly to his side. "What do you have there?"

"What does this look like to you?" he asked, indicating an object sticking out from between the stones in what Carter though was the remnant of some kind of wall.

Carter crouched down low next to him, trying to clean some of the dirt from around the object with her fingers. "Well," she said wiping her muddy fingers on her pants, "from this angle, it looks like part of a ribbon device. But why would it be here?" She looked quizzically at Daniel.

"That’s what I’d like to know." He stood and examined the large stone that sat on top of the wall at waist level. It was large, but Carter knew exactly what was going through his mind. He was sure the stone could be moved with a little persuasion. Sure enough, the request came moments later.

"Help me move this, would you? I’d like to see what else is under there."

"Daniel, aren’t you worried about disturbing something?" she asked as she moved to comply. Daniel was usually a stickler for keeping ruins and finds exactly as they were until he could log everything into the journal he carried. It wasn’t like him to move something until he had figured out why it was there in the first place.

He shook his head. "Not really. There’s not much here." His eyes quickly roamed over the vestiges of what was some type of multiple room building. She knew those eyes were calculating what this building could have been. A stone’s throw from the Stargate and DHD, this building could have served any number of purposes—a guardhouse, a gatehouse, a hunting lodge, a way station, or something else entirely. Whatever it had been, its usefulness was long since over.

"These ruins look like they’ve been here for centuries. Right now I’m more curious about the ribbon device. On three?" He looked to Sam for confirmation.

Sam nodded, bracing herself and gripping the top rock.

"Okay. One…two…three…" Daniel counted off and, with Sam’s help, they were able to move the rock enough to get a little more access to the partially buried ribbon device. He knelt down and began digging around the object with his field knife. The knife came in handy for something, although Sam was sure that the Colonel wouldn’t approve of its use on this occasion.

"Okay…well lookie here. It seems like this might have been attached to a hand at one point in time," Daniel commented as brittle bones emerged from his digging.

"What is that?" Sam asked, pointing to a metal object that stuck out from the remains of the human hand.

"That looks like a dagger of some kind. From the design on the hilt, I’d have to venture a guess and say that it’s Celtic. If the owner of this ribbon device was alive when he left through the Stargate, I think he might have been missing something." Daniel said, indicating the fact that the bones ended somewhere in the vicinity of where the wrist might have once been.

"How can you be sure they went through the gate?" Sam asked, suddenly concerned. The forest was quiet, the rain and fog providing plenty of cover for someone with nefarious motives. She stood and tried to squint through the fog. Her hand automatically went to her radio. "Colonel, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear, Carter. What’s the problem?" O’Neill’s voice came back seconds later. He didn’t sound like a happy camper, which was no surprise to Sam. Rain never put him in a good mood, and couple that with his current bad attitude, and you would have one very unhappy Colonel.

"Daniel’s discovered something interesting, sir. A Goa’uld hand device."

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Daniel’s discovered something interesting, sir. A Goa’uld hand device," Carter said, her voice sounding thin and tinny through the radio. He didn’t understand why her voice sounded that way but Jack was certain that if he asked Carter would be more than happy to explain it all to him. He knew better, though, after having to sit through more than one of her explanations. Ignorance is bliss—especially when it came to long-winded explanations delivered by a scientific genius.

"Good. Pack it up. We’ll bring it home. It’s always great to collect souvenirs. You know how the guys down in the labs drool over anything we bring them," O’Neill quipped, trying to sound lighthearted even though the forest felt like it was pressing down on him. He stepped carefully over a tree root. There were tons of them around, coming up out of the ground at odd angles and making his progress treacherous. He was walking along some kind of path, but one that clearly didn’t see much use. The forest was starting to encroach and that made it difficult to navigate. As much as he disliked wandering aimlessly through the forest on a planet far, far away, he knew it was better than doing nothing. It gave him something to do, something useful, while Carter and Daniel did their thing. Besides, his pacing always put everyone in a bad mood. He figured one bad mood was enough.

"I guess no one thought to bring an umbrella," he mumbled to himself as another rivulet of water wormed its way into his shirt. O’Neill looked up, catching movement in the trees out of the corner of his eye. Probably a bird, he thought, or the wind. There was nothing else around.

"Jack, it looks like whoever lived on this planet put up a fight against the Goa’uld. If that’s the case and those people are still here, we might have found an ally," said Daniel. His voice through the radio was laced with enthusiasm and brought back memories. I am going to have to put a leash on him one day, Jack thought absently. Can’t have archeologists just wandering off.

Jack could picture Daniel in his mind’s eye standing at the site by the gate, the radio in his hand as he explored the area, one ball of pure energy. Rain was probably dripping from the rim of Daniel’s hat and O’Neill was sure that a trickle had found its way down Daniel’s neck into the collar of his shirt. But he would ignore it, just as he would ignore anything short of the end of the world—and only then would he pay attention because it would destroy whatever it was that had caught his fancy this time around. "I hear you, Daniel. From what I can see, there’s not much in this general vicinity but trees and fog—and a lot of both, I might add. I’ll head back to your position and we can all take a little hike together. Consider it a bonding experience. Teal’c, how are you doing, buddy?"

"I am well, O’Neill," came back Teal’c prompt response. "However, I am uneasy."

O’Neill frowned. He always trusted Teal’c’s judgement and those few words immediately put him on the defensive. Lately, the bad feelings had only been his. "Uneasy? Teal’c, what’s wrong?" At Teal’c assurance he was fine and in no immediate danger, he continued, "Okay, let’s meet back at the ruins with Daniel and Carter in ten minutes anyway. We can re-evaluate everything there," O’Neill ordered, stepping around yet another tree root. A raven watched his progress as he stopped to survey the area.

"I will be there, O’Neill."

"Carter, Daniel. Stay put. We’ll be right with you." As long as nothing jumps out of the woods at us, he added to himself as he picked up the pace to get back to the rendezvous point. He had taken a path that seemed to loop wide around the right side of the gate, heading off into the hills behind the Stargate. Another path—or something that could be loosely defined as a path—seemed to loop back to the clearing and he decided it was probably the easiest way back without having to backtrack. He stepped around fallen tree limbs and small rocks, avoiding some of the muddier areas. Sure enough the trees started thinning out and a clearing appeared. He could just make out the Stargate off in the distance. Stepping carefully on the rocky ground, he made his way to his team.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Carter, Daniel. Stay put. We’ll be right with you," O’Neill said, his voice sounding distant through the radio.

"Yes, sir. Carter out." Daniel heard Sam acknowledge Jack’s order and sign off. In a way, he was envious of her. She was military and always managed to say just the right thing over that radio, but no matter how many times Jack drilled the proper military radio etiquette into his brain, as soon as anyone put that small black box in front of him all commonsense and training fled.

Even before Jack’s voice faded, he had already resumed his kneeling position in front of the wall. He carefully cleared the dirt away trying not to damage the artifact any more than he absolutely had to. What I wouldn’t give for my brushes, he thought vaguely, although they probably wouldn’t work very well in the mud. But he needed something else…maybe his knife would work. He turned around, his hand searching the ground. He had left the knife around here somewhere. Sure enough, his wandering fingers encountered the hilt of the knife a minute later. This is much better, he thought, as he carefully pried the dirt away from the ribbon device. He glanced up when he felt Sam kneel down next to him.

"Do you want to pack that up now? We have some time and I think I brought some big sample bags with me."

"Sure. Let me see if I can get this out in one piece," he said, digging around a little more, trying to loosen the dirt in which the hand and ribbon device were embedded. If Jack wanted a souvenir, Daniel was determined to give it to him in the best condition possible.

He glanced up again as Sam rose, catching her smile as she carefully picked her way across the clearing to the MALP. Moments later, she returned, a sample bag in hand. "You should probably clean that knife before the Colonel gets here. Didn’t he give you that as a gift?" Sam suggested, leaning down to help.

"Yeah, it was," he said absently. The hand and ribbon device were almost free.

"Why did he give it to you?" Sam asked.

"I know, I know," he said, glancing up at Sam with a rueful smile, his blue eyes twinkling. "I know I’m more likely to cut myself with it than actually do anything useful with it, but that’s not really the point. Jack thought he was being helpful. He was complaining that I couldn’t defend myself, so he signed me up for some self-defense courses and gave me the knife so I had something to defend myself with. He figured some extra hand-to-hand training might come in handy one day, especially since we seem to have the knack of getting ourselves into trouble."

Sam tried not to laugh. "He signed you up for self-defense classes?"

"Don’t laugh. I actually went, not that it did any good, but that’s a whole other story," he admitted with a half grin, wiping the muddy knife on his pants leg. "Sam, bring that bag over here." He lifted the ribbon device and bones out of the dirt while Sam held the bag open. After he tucked it neatly inside, she closed the bag and walked it back to the MALP.

"The colonel has his first souvenir of the trip," she said, placing the bag safely in a carton on the MALP.

"Good, Carter. Glad to see someone can follow orders."

Daniel twitched at the sound of Jack’s voice. That man could be as silent as a cat when it suited him, Daniel thought. This time, it was as if Jack appeared out of nowhere, stepping out of the fog, his P90 gripped tightly in both hands. Teal’c appeared moments later on Daniel’s other side.

"Well, the gangs all here," Jack said, looking around at the assembled group. Rain dripped steadily from the rim of his cap but his focus was on Teal’c. "What’s the consensus? Teal’c, what’s worrying you?"

Jack’s eyes flashed with concern and apprehension, and something else. Was it guilt? Anxiety? Daniel knew something was bothering Jack, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. God knows he had tried to talk to him about it, but Jack just dismissed him, told him to go and play with his rocks instead. Whatever he was carrying around in his head was making him edgy and unfortunately, he was taking all his frustrations and aggravation out on his team—his family—and it was starting to affect everyone.

But Daniel knew that until Jack could work things out for himself, he would just stay silent about it. Jack just pushed his own feelings to the back of his mind once again and concentrated on the situation at hand. Jack had done it dozens of times, maybe even hundreds. Why should this time be any different? It was, though.

"I am unsure, O’Neill. There is something about this planet…" Teal’c said, unsure of how to finish.

"That gives you the creeps? The shivers? The boogieman blues? What?" Jack asked, offering his usual unhelpful suggestions. Teal’c’s eyebrow rose.

"I am unsure of what the creeps, the shivers, or these boogieman blues are, O’Neill. This planet is not what it seems."

"Well, right now all I can see is rain, fog, and trees." He grimaced, looking around.

Daniel knew just by the expression on Jack’s face what was going on behind those chocolate brown eyes. Everywhere they went lately, there’d been a lot of trees. It was the same gripe on every planet. Daniel could imagine the thoughts running through Jack’s mind, ‘You’d think life on an alien planet might look a little different. A little variety would be nice.’ Sure enough, a moment later Jack shook his head quickly as if he was trying to get those very thoughts out of his head.

"Anyone else having second thoughts?" Daniel shook his head negatively and Sam echoed his gesture. Jack turned his attention back to Sam. "Where did the UAV indicate that there was some life?"

"A few clicks to the southeast. There was a pretty sizeable settlement, according to the UAV, sir."

Jack sighed, looking around again and rubbing his hand across his face, wiping away some of the dampness. "Well, since I don’t see any immediate threat to our health and safety, we have two choices here, kids. We can pack it up and head home to a hot shower and a hot meal and come back another day when its nice, sunny, and dry, or we can try and visit with the natives. What will it be?" Daniel tried not to flinch when Jack skewered him with a look, but much to everyone’s surprise, Sam spoke up first.

"Well, if it’s all the same to you, sir, we might as well see who lives here. We can’t get much wetter than we already are. Besides, the trees should give us some protection from the rain. It’ll be better than standing out in the open like we are now."

"Daniel?" Jack said, but his gaze was still on Sam. It was almost as if Jack was trying to read Sam’s mind, to find out exactly what she was thinking, but her face was inscrutable. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t show it.

Daniel watched Jack’s expression. If he hadn’t known any better, he might have thought that Jack was acting as if it was business as usual. But Daniel could see that it was anything but. Jack was unusually tense, his gaze penetrating. Daniel settled for honesty. "I agree with Sam, Jack. I’d be interested in finding out how a goa’uld ribbon device got left behind."

"Teal’c?" Jack turned to the Jaffa, who was still intent on the fog surrounding them.

"I cannot find sufficient reason behind my agitation. I, too, am curious to find a race that has fought against the Goa’uld."

"Okay then, let’s see if the natives are friendly," Jack said, hefting his P90. "Carter, lead the way. Everyone keep alert. I’ll keep an eye on our six."

"Yes, sir. This way," Sam said, indicating a small path with her outstretched hand just to the right of the ruins they had been exploring.

Daniel glanced back at the Stargate as the fog slowly overtook it. A dark shape darted across the sky but he didn’t think much about it. Since they had come through the gate, he’d noticed several bird-like creatures hanging around. Probably looking for some crumbs—not that they would enjoy the rations they were going to have for dinner.

"You know, a lot of those rocks piled around the gate were probably what kept it buried until recently. I wonder why they would unbury it all of a sudden," Daniel said voicing some of the questions that were running through his head. The uneasy silence they had fallen into was disconcerting. Usually, you couldn’t get Jack O’Neill to shut up—whether it was his sarcastic comments or his musings on the latest win or loss of his favorite hockey team. Lately, Jack had been strangely quiet with only brief forays into the "normal" O’Neill. It was almost time for one of their "talks"—with Daniel talking and Jack listening, sort of. Once they got a moment alone he was going to speak up. Daniel stepped carefully over a tree limb that had fallen across the path.

"Daniel, does it really matter?" Jack asked sarcastically, bringing up in the rear. "We came, we saw, we got soaking wet, and now we’re traipsing halfway across the planet to meet the natives. You should be happy."

"Jack, of course it matters!" Daniel exclaimed, glancing back at Jack and tripping over an exposed tree root. A steady hand from Teal’c was the only thing that saved him from sprawling in the mud. Daniel flashed Teal’c a grateful smile. "Thanks, Teal’c."

"You are welcome, Daniel Jackson."

Jack was unconvinced. "Daniel, why does it matter?" Jack insisted. "In the grand scheme of things, you know all that meaning of life stuff," he said, waving his hands to emphasize his point, "why does it really matter?"

"Come on, Jack, you’re not that dense. You should be able to see things for yourself." Daniel ignored the look Jack sent his way. "This is more than just ancient history and it’s different from all that meaning of life stuff and you very well know that," he said, pointedly looking back at Jack, who inclined his head with a half-hearted smile, conceding Daniel’s point was valid. Jack waved his hand for him to continue. "I mean, we have to ask the question, why did they have a gate in the first place? Why did the Ancients put one here? Did the Ancients place the gate here or did the goa’uld? And then, why was the gate buried? Was there a rebellion here? Did they escape a rebellion on another world? Or did they just escape from another world? Obviously, they know what the goa’uld are, so were they worried about the goa’uld returning through the gate? But then, what if the goa’uld returned in ships instead? How could they have escaped if the gate was buried and there was a mothership in orbit? Besides which, it might be nice to find out exactly who buried the gate centuries ago and why all of a sudden they are interested in it now. Anything could have happened that caused them to turn their attention to the gate. There could have been a sickness. The goa’uld could have returned…"

Jack raised his hands in mock surrender. "Ack! Daniel, enough. I’m sorry I asked."

"O’Neill, someone approaches," said Teal’c, stopping suddenly, his staff in hand, aimed through the fog at the unseen strangers. Sam paced back several steps to stand with the group, her weapon raised and pointed the same way as Teal’c’s.

SG1 was intent on the fog and the surrounding trees—not that they could see much. At least the trees helped to keep some of the rain off. Daniel thought absently. Several long moments later, three figures emerged from the fog, in the direction Teal’c was pointing his staff weapon, stopping when SG1 came into focus.

The lead figure was impressive. Tall and muscular with dark brown hair, which hung to touch his shoulders. A short goatee graced his youthful face. He wore a deep, dark blue cloak, clasped at his neck with an elaborately intricate metal brooch in what Daniel recognized as some type of Celtic design. Of what they could see of the stranger’s undergarments, his leggings and tunic were various shades of brown and a leather belt around his waist held several items, including a well-made long metal sword. His two companions, hanging back, wore similar clothes and carried similar weaponry. They were all about the same height as Jack and Teal’c, but solid. They were all muscle and looked like they could wield their weapons with ease and precision.

"Greetings to you, fair travelers. Welcome to the Ildanach," said the first stranger with a slight nod of his head toward SG1. His tone, smooth and pithy, belied his war-like stature.

"Like you’re really happy to see us," Jack muttered under his breath just loud enough for Daniel and Sam to hear. Sam ducked her head, trying to hide her smile. Of course the "normal" O’Neill had to surface now, Daniel thought acidly. He ignored Jack and stepped forward, his hands outstretched, palms facing up, doing his usual "meet the natives" routine.

"Thank you for your kind welcome. My name is Daniel Jackson and we are travelers from a distant place…" he began.

"Have you come through the circle? Are you the leader of this tribe?"

Jack, grinning slightly at the stranger’s exuberance, stepped forward. With a self-conscious half-smile, he raised his hand slightly, wiggling his fingers. "No, that would be me. Colonel Jack O’Neill." He indicated the other two members of SG1 with his eyes and a sweep of his hand. "Major Samantha Carter and Teal’c. And you are…?"

"I apologize for my inconsiderateness. My name is Egan. My companions are Hywel and Turlough," Egan said, indicating each of his companions in turn. Hywel sported a dark russet colored cloak while Turlough’s was a dark brown. For all intents and purposes, these three could have been brothers—really big brothers. "It is not often that we come across strangers in this land."

Daniel perked up considerably. He could have sworn he heard Jack muttering typical Jack O’Neill gripes under his breath, but he pointedly ignored him, as he normally did. "Have you met other strangers recently?"

"There are some from villages many days walk from here whom we consider to be strangers. All of us, however, are considered brothers. Do you come from such a far off village?" Egan had apparently nominated himself the group’s spokesperson. The others stood quietly behind him, but Daniel noticed that their hands were not far from the hilt of their weapons. Jack would be proud that he had noticed that detail, he thought absently. Daniel glanced quickly over his shoulder and saw Jack was still gripping his P90 carefully, probably trying not to worry anyone—let alone himself or the natives. He had that look on his face—curious, but guarded and poised to move at a moment’s notice.

Daniel hesitated before answering. Thankfully, Jack was keeping his comments to himself for now. "Yes, we come from a distant village…"

"You have come from the circle." Egan stated it matter-of-factly and Daniel found it hard to lie to him directly. From personal experience, starting out with lies was generally not a good thing to do when dealing with first contacts—especially when these mild mannered people could quite possibly rip his arms from the sockets without breaking a sweat.

"Yes, we have. Have many strangers come through the circle?"

Hywel spoke up, his voice calm but gravelly. "You are the first in millennia to step through the circle. The Lord said travelers would come once we uncovered the great circle." Hywel almost sounded awed.

"The Lord?" Jack asked, stepping closer, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Perhaps," Daniel suggested, "we could meet and speak with the Lord of your village."

"Daniel," Jack warned under his breath but Egan spoke loudly, effectively cutting Jack off.

"Yes," said Egan, "That is exactly what we shall do. The village of Meath is but a short hike down the path. Let us bring you to Lord Kentigern. He will be delighted to meet you. Please follow us." Egan bowed slightly and turned back the way he had come, indicating that SG1 should follow.

Jack mouthed ‘Meath?’ and shouldered past Daniel, muttering under his breath. Daniel caught one comment, something about once more unto the breach, but chose to ignore it. When Jack followed Egan into the fog, the rest of SG1 had little choice but to trail behind. Egan’s friends fell in step beside Daniel and Teal’c, leaving Sam to catch up with Jack and Egan.

Hywel broke the silence that descended upon them, his voice hushed. It was as if his words were only meant for Daniel’s ears. "If my words disturb you, please advise me and I shall discontinue our conversation, but I must know…what is it like beyond the circle?"

Daniel looked at Hywel’s intense and inquisitive expression. His green eyes were wide. It seemed like Hywel was afraid of what the answer might be, but he had to ask, to know. Daniel rubbed his hands together, trying to organize his thoughts. But, where would he start? "Well, our…village is very different. But in other ways, we are very much the same. Family is very important to us—even our extended family—as it is to you. We are curious by nature and we seek to learn about other cultures and about other people, which is why we are here. We seek to find friends and allies."

"What is the village called from which you hail?"

Daniel cleared his throat before he continued. "We are from a place, a planet, called Earth. The village we are from is called Colorado Springs."

Hywel looked confused, but that did not surprise Daniel. "Earth?"

"Yes. "

"And you are from Earth as well?" Hywel asked, turning to Teal’c.

"No, I am from a planet named Chulak, but I journey with these ones from Earth. They are my friends." Teal’c replied evenly, his tone matter-of-fact.

Hywel took a moment before he asked another question, gathering his thoughts. If he was surprised to find such willing conversationalists in these strangers, he did not show it. Daniel took advantage of the silence, to ask a question of his own.

"Hywel, if I may ask, when did your people turn their attention to the great circle?"

"The Lady Morgana has spoken of it on many occasions, especially when she retells the tales of old, of how we were brought to this land by Lugh as a protection for his people from the coming plagues in our ancient lands. She is our high priestess, in addition to being the wife of our Lord. Several moons ago, Lord Kentigern decreed that the circle be uncovered. Many worked tirelessly to obey his decree. We are part of a welcoming party sent to guard the circle and greet those who step through. It has only been a fortnight since we completed this project. We had not expected to find travelers," he said, and continued with a worried expression, "especially this night."

"Why? What is so special about this night?" Daniel asked, curious.

Egan answered quietly, surprising him. The rest of the party had stopped to allow them to catch up. Daniel had not even noticed that they had fallen so far behind. A quick glance at Teal’c indicated that he too, was surprised. Daniel risked a quick glance at Jack and wasn’t surprised to see Jack’s jaw tight, his eyes flashing his exasperation and annoyance with a particular archeologist.

"Samhain is soon upon us and it will not be safe to walk these paths once the sun has set. We shall speak of this once we reach the village." Egan again gestured for SG1 to follow. "Please, let us make haste. We still have a long walk ahead of us."

Although Jack did not say anything, his look was enough. There would be words and questions later tonight, Daniel was sure. This time, they made sure they kept up as the group quickened its pace to reach the village by nightfall.

Through the fog and mist, Daniel could see several fires blazing that indicated their arrival at the village nearly an hour-and-a-half later. It had been an arduous walk, the last 15 minutes or so an uphill climb, but their guides seemed to relax as tall stone walls and torches came into view. Daniel had many questions for his guides, but they could wait.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but the sight before him wasn’t it—whatever it was. The village of Meath stood atop a tall hill. It reminded him of some of the hillforts he had read about years ago but on a much grander scale. Everything here was huge in comparison to what he was used to seeing.

From what he could remember from the texts about the Celts on Earth, most of the structures they lived in must have been fairly flimsy since very little archeological evidence remained behind. But here, he felt as if he was stepping into a fairy tale. These were permanent structures, made from stone and wood.

It seemed almost as if the fog had lifted up above the village, hovering over the tops of the trees on the outskirts, blanketing and protecting it. The torches along the main thoroughfare shone brightly in the twilight, leading to a large structure. They were headed for it, so Daniel assumed it must be the house of Lord Kentigern. He took the opportunity to look at everything they were passing. Metalworkers and blacksmiths looked up from their work as they passed by. Children hid behind their mother’s skirts as the strangers walked past. Various peddlers with their carts stopped what they were doing as the strange group tromped through the village.

He tried smiling reassuringly at some of them, but just ended up scaring a little boy. The people could have stepped out of modern England and Ireland for all he knew. They were a striking, distinctive people. Most were tall and fair-skinned with long blonde, brown, or red-hair. Most of the men also had long hair, similar to Egan’s. Teal’c’s baldness was a stark contrast to the thick, healthy hair he saw all around.

Interestingly enough, everyone he saw as they strode down the main street of this village could have easily taken out the entire team with an arm tied behind his back—even the women. There was a strength about them that Daniel found unusual for such an unassuming and mild-tempered people. People like this did not become such formidable-looking warriors overnight. No indeed, there had to be some kind of need, some cause for this type of development. Shuddering slightly, he wondered just what it could be.

They were nearly at the large dwelling—or for lack of a better term, castle—and they were expected—much to SG1’s surprise. "Lord Kentigern is awaiting your arrival," said the woman at the door, bowing in respect of SG1 and their guides. "Please enter. May peace be on you." She held the bow until they had all walked past.

As they went through the main entrance, Jack turned to Daniel, an eyebrow raised in almost a mirror image of Teal’c’s. His face was full of questions, but he held his tongue. Daniel met his gaze and shook his head slightly. Silent communication passed between them. Not now. We can talk later. Jack understood, nodding to Daniel, and turned back to Egan, who had paused in the center of the cavernous foyer under a metal chandelier where close to one hundred candles blazed brightly, causing flickering shadows on the walls and tapestries.

Tapestries! Daniel’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the complicated tapestries lining the walls. A wood staircase was on their left, curving around and leading to the second story.

"Please follow me. Lord Kentigern wishes to make your acquaintance before you prepare for the feast tonight." Egan bowed slightly and led the way through a set of gothic-like double doors. Daniel couldn’t even begin to imagine how many trees it had taken just to create those grand doors.

They entered a large hall, walking on the carpet between two huge wooden banquet tables that were being prepared for the night’s feast. Egan led them forward to the dais where Lord Kentigern waited. Like the rest of the villagers they had passed, Lord Kentigern was a formidable figure, even casually seated. Although he was dressed in a similar manner to most of the other villagers, just by looks alone, Daniel could tell that Lord Kentigern’s tunic and trousers were of a much higher quality material. A cloak of midnight blue was settled around his shoulders and his red-brown hair brushed his shoulders. He radiated an aura of power and strength.

"My Lord," Egan began, bowing deeply, "these are the travelers we encountered on the path to the hill country. They have come through the great circle." Egan indicated they should step forward. Jack bowed his head slightly as he approached Lord Kentigern. Daniel could see the indecision on Jack’s face. Diplomatic stuff was usually Daniel’s job, and besides, Jack wasn’t the best diplomat. Much to Daniel’s delight, Jack settled for a simple greeting. Simple is always good.

"I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill." He gestured to each member of SG1 in turn. "Dr. Daniel Jackson, Major Samantha Carter, and Teal’c. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Welcome to Meath, Colonel Jack O’Neill. Do you speak for your people?"

"Yes, I do." Jack glanced around quickly, catching Daniel’s eye. Daniel shrugged slightly, indicating Jack should continue. He seemed to be doing all right.

"Again, welcome. We have much to discuss this night, but before the feasting begins, please be my guests. You look both tired and wet. I will have Nerys, my house steward, set up rooms for you and have a bath drawn. Feasting will begin just after the sun sets." Kentigern turned his attention to the woman who appeared, as if from thin air, beside his chair. She was nearly the same height as Jack and solidly built. Her blonde straight hair reached down to the middle of her back and was tied back at the nape of her neck with a leather band. She wore a plain-colored tunic covered by a long russet-colored surcoat of sorts, fastened at the waist by a leather belt. She had a no-nonsense air about her.

"Nerys, please see that our guests are comfortably settled in for the night. Give them the rooms in the east wing and have bath water drawn for them," Kentigern commanded.

"Yes, my Lord. The bath water is already being heated. When news came of their arrival, I thought you might offer accommodations so the rooms are already prepared." She bowed and swept down the steps and past the astonished team. "Please follow me," she said already halfway to the door.

SG1, at a loss for words, took their leave of Lord Kentigern and turned quickly to follow Nerys through the double doors before they lost her altogether. They were apparently just along for the ride.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Nerys led them up the circular staircase and down a long corridor. Near the end of the corridor, she paused long enough to open a door and usher them through. "I believe this suite of rooms shall suit you," she said herding SG1 into the center of what appeared to be a large sitting room complete with a fireplace and what looked like comfortable arm chairs. From where they stood, they could see glimpses of five rooms beyond the sitting room. They weren’t large, but in comparison to the tent they would have ordinarily been sleeping in tonight, they were well appointed.

"Mona and Kelan are preparing bath water for you in the main bath chamber," she said, indicating one of the rooms with her hand. She turned to Carter and gestured to one of the rooms. "I have arranged for you to have a separate room and bathing area from your group. I hope you do not think I am presumptuous. I thought you might feel more comfortable, being the only woman to have something separate from the men." She bent her head in a gesture of respect.

Carter appeared speechless, an amazing and rare event for her, Jack thought, barely hiding a smile. Carter managed to get out a choking reply. "Thank you, Nerys for your forethought. I appreciate it."

"Do you require anything else at this time, my Lord? Additional clothes perhaps?" Nerys asked, looking directly at Jack.

He sent a furtive glance Daniel’s way before answering. Daniel was too busy checking the place out to notice much of anything right now. "No, I don’t think so." He looked down at his muddied and wet clothing and something else occurred to him. "Nerys…" he started, not exactly sure how to continue. He gestured to the soiled and saturated clothing adorning his body. "We have other clothes like these. Will they be appropriate for tonight?"

Nerys looked upset. “Yes, my Lord, those clothes are fine. I did not mean to be rude or to indicate that you were dressed inappropriately. I just thought perhaps you might be more comfortable—"

Jack rubbed his hand across his face. They were here for less than five minutes and he was already upsetting the natives. "Nerys, we’re not insulted, on the contrary, you have been more than helpful. I just wanted to make sure we would not show any disrespect to Lord Kentigern." He paused before continuing, a sheepish expression on his face. "I think we’re all set, but I do have one question. When are we expected downstairs?"

"I will send Kelan when the feast is about to begin. You haven’t much time." She bowed deeply and retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.

"Well," he said, turning to his team, "Meath, huh? This is…interesting to say the least. A nice change of pace for us, don’tcha think? Usually we have people shooting at us."

"Jack, I don’t even know where to begin. I feel like I just stepped into a medieval village or something. There are so many people who would just about kill to be able to set foot in a living, working village like this. Just think of all the stuff we could learn." Daniel broke off when a soft knock sounded throughout the room. Teal’c, closest to the door, opened it to reveal several servants holding steaming buckets and basins of water.

"Please pardon the interruption, my Lords. Nerys indicated that you required bath water. I apologize for not having it here earlier."

Daniel gestured them to enter as Teal’c stepped aside, giving them the room they needed. "Is your name Kelan?" he asked the speaker, a tall and lean man. At the man’s nod, he continued. "Please enter, Kelan. Don’t let us get in your way."

"Thank you, my Lord," he said stepping past Daniel and into the bathroom. Within minutes, the tubs were filled and a pleasant scent of pine and rosemary permeated the suite of rooms. Another of the servants stoked the fireplace. Kelan bowed slightly as he departed. "I will be back shortly to bring you to the feast." He closed the door behind him and SG1 was alone once again.

Jack was the first to break the stunned silence that surrounded them. He unhooked his backpack, letting it fall to the floor with a soggy thud. His rain parka followed suit, landing in a heap at his feet. "Well kids, it looks like we have a dinner date tonight. When in Rome…" He sighed heavily. "Okay, who’s first? Daniel, why don’t you go first? It looks like you might need it a little more than we do. Teal’c, you’re next. Is everyone okay?" He eyed each of his teammates. They were all wearing similarly astonished expressions, which he was sure matched the one on his own face. This was a very surreal experience. Whoever thought they would find themselves spending a pleasant night in a castle with servants at their beck and call?

He sighed again and with a satisfied smile, he sank into a large armchair next to the fireplace, thumping his boots on what passed as a coffee table. Thankfully he had managed to bang off most of the mud before they entered the castle. That was one thing he always remembered from his childhood—his mother’s constant reminders about good manners. Don’t track mud into the house. She’d be pleased that her lessons had eventually sunk into his thick skull. But then, she was just another person on his long list of those who had died too young. He exhaled a long breath, trying to pull his thoughts back to the present. He closed his eyes as his body settled into the soft cushions. "Danny, don’t forget to wash behind your ears."

Daniel gave Jack a dirty look that he didn’t see, but moved to the bathroom. He heard Carter’s footsteps hurrying off to her room to get settled in. Teal’c stood before Jack at parade rest, his expression neutral but curious.

"Teal’c, are you going to stand there glaring at me, or did you want something?" Jack asked, feeling Teal’c’s stare and opening an eye.

"O’Neill, I believe I shall perform a brief kel-no-reem, with your permission."

He closed his eye. "Sure, Teal’c. I’ll take the room by the door. Pick any other room you like and relax. I think I’ll just sit here for a while and enjoy the quiet." Teal’c moved to one of the smaller rooms and closed the door. He was alone. The sound of splashes came from the bathroom and from Carter’s room. He smiled to himself. This was one of the stranger experiences they’d had, but also one of the more pleasant. He shivered slightly and realized that he was soaked to the bone. He had picked a chair near the fireplace, but he was only just starting to warm up. Hopefully, Daniel wouldn’t take forever and he could sneak in before Teal’c and before the water got too cold.

He had drifted off a little when the door to the bathroom opened and a noticeably cleaner archeologist stepped out in his boxers. He flicked his eyes over to Carter’s closed door and at Jacks napping form, and scurried to the last remaining empty room, his backpack in hand.

"You done?" Jack asked without opening his eyes.

Daniel stopped suddenly, skidding a little on the cold tiles in his bare feet. "Yeah. I didn’t mean to wake you. You going to jump in there or should I get Teal’c?"

"You didn’t wake me. I was just resting my eyes. I’ll go. Teal’c is kel-no-reeming. I’ll be quick." Jack groaned as he eased himself out of the chair. He was getting too old for this cold, damp weather. It was starting to bother his knees and his back. He picked up his pack from where he had dropped it and hobbled into the bathroom. Daniel ducked into the bedroom next to Teal’c’s and shut the door.

Jack cleaned himself up and had stepped into a clean, dry pair of BDUs when he heard laughter from the sitting room. Being nosy, he opened the door to find out what was going on. Carter and Daniel were lounging on the chairs near the fireplace. They looked warm, clean, dry, and relaxed. All good things.

Bare-chested, he stepped into the room, a clean shirt in his hands.

"So, how are we doing on time?" he asked, walking toward the fireplace. Nearby, on the backs of several chairs, damp clothes—including his parka—hung to dry from the heat of the fireplace.

"I don’t know, Jack," Daniel said. "Kelan hasn’t been back yet."

Jack shrugged into his shirt and knocked on Teal’c’s door. "Hey buddy, the bathroom’s free." Jack stepped back into the bathroom and grabbed his pack as Teal’c opened his door. Jack examined him with a critical eye. Teal’c still looked a little worn around the edges. Something wasn’t sitting well with the Jaffa. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

"Teal’c, are you okay? You don’t look so hot," Daniel asked, springing up to Teal’c’s side, concern evident in his eyes and his voice.

"I am well, Daniel Jackson."

"Are you sure, Teal’c?" Jack chimed in. "You look a little off your feed. Everything okay with Junior?"

"I will be well, O’Neill. Please do not concern yourself with me," he said moving to the bathroom and closing the door.

Silence descended upon them. Daniel spoke up quietly. "If I had to venture a guess, Teal’c looks worried more than anything. Maybe he didn’t get a good kel-no-reem last night."

"I don’t know, Daniel. I’ll keep an eye on him tonight. He’ll probably be back to his normal joking self in the morning," Jack said, perching casually on the arm of Carter’s chair. While for all intents and purposes he knew he looked and sounded relaxed, he was anything but. Even now as he was laughing and joking around, he could feel the tension in his jaw and shoulders. He could use a good massage right now. He rolled his head, trying to stretch his upper back and neck muscles.

"As long as he doesn’t tell any more Jaffa jokes, we’ll be fine," Carter said smiling.

Daniel and Jack chuckled, remembering Teal’c’s first—and last—attempt at humor. It hadn’t been a pretty sight. The laugh felt good. He hadn’t had the opportunity—or the inclination—to laugh at anything lately.

"So, Daniel, what do you make of all this?" Jack asked, waving his hand around.

"I don’t know, Jack," Daniel said, looking around, his blue eyes wide. "I don’t even know where to begin. From what we’ve seen, they seem to be direct descendants from Earth. They could have walked right out of medieval England for all we know. They seem eager to see us and are pleasant enough. I’d recommend we play along for now. It can’t hurt. Besides, I know I wasn’t looking forward to our usual field rations for dinner."

Carter and Jack grinned broadly. No one liked the taste of field rations. Jack remembered there was a time when Daniel thought field rations were the best invention on the planet. But that was a long time ago when Daniel was naive enough to think that they actually tasted like real food.

"Sounds reasonable, Daniel. Anything I shouldn’t do?"

"Well…" Daniel said, pausing to collect his thoughts. Daniel’s eyes got that far-away look Jack was so familiar with when Daniel was thinking. Jack was sure that he knew exactly what was going through Daniel’s mind—all the times he should have been paying attention when Daniel did his diplomatic "meet-the-natives" song and dance. If he had paid attention before, he wouldn’t need a crash course now. Jack pulled himself back to reality as Daniel started speaking. "Well, Jack, just be yourself. Try to stick as close to the truth as you can, and try to be…nice."

"That it?"

Daniel looked up, surprise etched on his face. Jack even caught the sidelong look he sent Carter, but he didn’t care. "Yeah."

"Piece of cake. I’ll have him eating out of my hand."

Daniel was going to protest, but a knock came from the door. Daniel, still standing, crossed quickly to the door, opening it. Kelan appeared, stepping into the room.

"My Lords and Lady," he said, tipping his head to Carter, "the feasting shall begin shortly. Are you prepared?"

"We shall be ready in a few moments, Kelan." Jack heard Daniel say as he moved to knock quietly on the bathroom door. Apparently, Daniel thought it was a good time to ask questions, Jack thought. He tried to keep an ear on what Daniel was saying. You never knew when one of his questions might prove to be useful later on.

"While we wait, I have some questions. Perhaps you would be able to answer some of them."

"I shall try. What is it you would like to know?"

"I have quite a number of questions, but I guess we have to start somewhere." Jack ducked his head into the bathroom and was quietly conversing with Teal’c. "Someone mentioned the feast tonight was called Samhain if I recall correctly. What is this feast?"

Kelan’s eyes widened dramatically. "You must truly be from beyond the circle if you do not know of the great festivals and feasts." He rubbed his hands together, gathering his thoughts. He began to speak slowly, choosing his words carefully. "For us, Samhain marks the end of one year and the beginning of the next. At this time, the spirits of those in the otherworld become visible to men. This night, it is not safe to walk in the forests outside the light of the village. Come morning, all will be well, but this night we celebrate the beginning of a new year and we honor the spirits of our ancestors."

"I understand," Daniel said, nodding his head. "Many cultures have similar customs." Jack and Teal’c stepped up to Daniel’s side. Teal’c looked a little better, but Daniel was sure he was just hiding it well. "Are you ready, Jack?"

"Yep. We’re all ready and I’m starving. Let’s get moving." Jack gestured for everyone to move toward the door. "Kelan, please, lead the way."

Various aromas wafted up the stairs from the great hall and Jack’s stomach growled, loud in the silence of the hallway. He grinned and rubbed his stomach. Meeting Daniel’s gaze he said, "Sorry about that. I told you I was hungry."

Carter grinned. "Sir, you’re always hungry. Sometimes it’s just more obvious than other times."

"Fine, Carter," he said, grinning wider. "Rat me out, why don’t you!" Kelan looked on with a questioning gaze. They walked down the stairway and stepped toward the wide open doors leading to the great hall. This time it was filled with people, sitting and drinking all along the banquet tables. Lord Kentigern saw them pause at the door, trying to remain inconspicuous as they searched the room for an empty seat. He quickly rose to his feet and waved them forward.

"Please, do not be shy. Come, there are seats up here," he said, indicating several empty seats toward the front of the room, near his table. Beside Lord Kentigern stood an elegant woman with auburn hair and bright green eyes, dressed in a flowing purple-red gown. She stood regally beside him, calmly watching SG1 approach. Lord Kentigern waved Jack up to the empty chair on his left side. "Colonel Jack O’Neill, please join me here. We have much to discuss."

Jack turned to the rest of his team, shrugging his shoulders in surrender, a smile playing on his lips. He moved up the stairs to join Lord Kentigern. Egan, Hywel, and Turlough were also seated nearby and quickly arranged for Carter, Teal’c, and Daniel to sit beside them. They still had many questions.

"Colonel Jack O’Neill, please meet my wife, Lady Morgana."

Jack took her hand in his and bowed over it, a gentleman. For moments like this, he wished he had eyes in the back of his head. He was sure Carter’s mouth had dropped open and she was staring at him. He knew she didn’t think he had it in him to be such a charming guest. She had probably never seen him act so properly. As much as he hated to admit it, some of what Daniel tried to drill into his head had sunk in. He just took a perverse pleasure in needling Daniel about it.

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear Lady." He released her hand and introduced his team as they settled into their seats. Thankfully, his team had put their eyes back in their sockets by the time it came for him to make introductions.

As soon as they were seated, servants descended upon the tables bringing food and drink for all. Dishes of various meats and fish appeared before them along with cheeses, some vegetables and different kinds of fruits and berries. Wine and ale also appeared on the table and a healthy portion of ale found its way into Jack’s glass. He never reached the bottom of the glass because every time he turned around one servant or another was topping it off.

A musician playing what could have passed as a guitar strolled throughout the great hall, providing delightful background music. After a few hesitant tastings, SG1 dug in with gusto, imitating their hosts. Everything was good and, soon enough, they leaned back in their chairs, warm, full, and pleasantly content to listen to the singers, chat with their dinner companions, and drink the wine and ale.

*~*~*~*~*~*

All through the night, Lady Morgana watched O’Neill. Although he looked to be participating fully in the feasting, he was attentive to what was going on, drinking cautiously, keeping an eye on the rest of his companions. She was curious to know more about him, but it was more than curiosity that drew her to him. He was special, powerful, dangerous, a warrior through and through. At one point during the evening, he caught her gaze and smiled pleasantly at her. His eyes though, told the truth of the matter. He knew she was watching him and he let her know, with just a simple glance, just how much he was aware of what was going on. She smiled back and tipped her head slightly, acknowledging his gaze. She smiled slightly to herself. He would be perfect.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel’s eyes were starting to close on him from a combination of factors. He was full—stuffed actually. He had also consumed quite a bit of the local wine and ale. He was warm and it was probably close to 0300 back at the SGC. Add all that to the three hour-long hike this afternoon, and it had been a long day.

He glanced up at Jack who was still going strong, conversing at length with Lord Kentigern. Apparently, Jack had found a friend. Probably trading war stories, Daniel thought. A twinge of jealously crept in. No matter how close they were as friends, Daniel knew that there were some things he and Jack would never see eye to eye about—war stories was one such thing. It was a subject that was simply off-limits. Even when Daniel brought the subject up, trying to learn more about his best friend, Jack always managed to deflect the questions, quickly changing to a different topic of conversation. No matter how hard anyone tried, Jack kept most of his friends an arms-length away. It was almost as if Jack tried to protect Daniel from the nastier parts of life—especially his life.

Most of the guests had already taken their leave hours ago. The servants were cleaning up around them. Soon, Daniel thought, they would just sweep them out with the rest of the trash. Teal’c was looking better as he sat observing. Sam had struck up a conversation with Lady Morgana, although from the looks of things, they were about ready to call it a night.

Sure enough, Lady Morgana touched her husband’s elbow and he immediately realized the lateness of the hour. He stood, a little unsteady on his feet, bid everyone a good night, and cautiously walked out of the great hall with Lady Morgana on his arm, leaving SG1 looking at each other. Moments later, Kelan appeared looking tired and drawn.

"Kelan, did we keep you awake?" Daniel asked, standing. He swayed a bit once he reached his feet, but didn’t fall. Teal’c magically appeared at his side. Teal’c’s hand on his elbow helped to steady him. That wine and ale had sure crept up on him, Daniel thought.

"No, Daniel Jackson, you did not." Kelan said and then turned his attention to Jack, who was stepping down from the dais. "My Lord, may I show you back to your rooms?"

"Sure," Jack said, waving him on. "Lead the way."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack had noticed Daniel’s too-much-to-drink sway and was grateful Teal’c had caught it as well. It saved Daniel a little self-respect, but he knew Daniel wouldn’t appreciate the hangover he’d have in the morning. Carter too, Jack detected, was also a little uneasy on her feet. This shouldn’t become a habit, he thought critically, but from the way the talks went tonight, they would have a very valuable ally in these people.

They climbed the stairs and stumbled back to their rooms, exhausted.

Kelan opened the door and led SG1 back into their rooms. All their damp clothing was carefully arranged near the fireplace, drying out. Apparently, the servants had been through. Not only had they tidied up, they had turned down the beds as well. Right now, they looked very inviting.

"My Lord, I would recommend leaving your doors ajar to allow some of the heat from the fire into your rooms. By morning, you will appreciate the warmth. The mornings are quite cold. One of the house stewards will make sure the fire remains strong. Goodnight. May your dreams be pleasant." He bowed slightly and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Jack took one look at his motley bunch and chuckled. What a pitiful sight they were. Teal’c still looked a little green around the edges. Daniel and Carter were tipsy and he was tired—exhausted even. It was time to call it a night.

"Okay kids, let’s hit the sack. We’ll have time to talk and visit some more in the morning before we have to head back to the gate. I’d recommend we get as much sleep as we can while there’s still some night left." He turned to his room, the closest to the door. He’d chosen it subconsciously, out of habit. He was still protecting his team, even while he slept.

Carter and Daniel muttered something that passed as goodnight and stumbled off to their respective beds. Jack stuck his head out of the door. "Don’t forget to take two aspirins before you go to bed. You’ll thank me in the morning." He chuckled to himself as he sat on the edge of the bed, removed his boots, socks, and fatigue pants, dropped them in a crumpled pile on the floor, and climbed into bed.

They were all sleeping minutes after their heads hit the pillow.

*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour later, two figures quietly entered the room and stood in the sitting area listening to the sounds of slumber. The fire caused strange shadows to flicker across the walls and across the faces of the intruders.

Quietly, so as not to wake the slumbering figures, Lady Morgana, dressed much more plainly than at dinner, in a simple tan tunic, indicated the first room, "Turlough, be careful with this one. He is the one we were awaiting." She pressed a damp cloth into her accomplice’s hands. "Place this over his nose and mouth, but do not wake him. One breath of this and he shall slumber for a long time. Now go."

He hesitated for a moment, but moved to follow her instructions. He slipped through the open door and approached the bed. Jack O’Neill was fast sleep, the covers askew. One arm was thrown above his head while one of his legs was tangled in the blankets. Quickly, before he doubted himself, he pressed the cloth to O’Neill’s face as he had been instructed. Still asleep, O’Neill tried feebly to push the hand away, but quickly succumbed to the drug. His hand dropped, a dead weight. Turlough held the cloth for a few beats longer to make sure and then quietly crept back to the sitting room.

"It is done," he said in hushed tones.

"Good. You know where to bring him. Make sure you secure the door and do not leave anything in the room with him. Now go," she ordered, firm, but quiet. They must not be discovered. Turlough jumped to obey. Pushing the door open, he lifted O’Neill easily over his shoulder and carried him from the room.

Once they were gone, Morgana moved to the woman Carter’s room. She had work to do and it was going to take time.

Pulling another cloth from her pouch along with a small vial, she emptied some of the liquid onto the cloth and pressed it against Carter’s nose and mouth. After a moment, she removed the cloth and placed her hand across Carter’s forehead. Crinkling her nose and forehead in concentration, she spoke several ancient, alien words. Carter shifted in her sleep, as if she was aware of the intrusion into her mind and her memories.

These strangers had a fierce loyalty for one another, even unconsciously. Lady Morgana’s powerful mind, with the assistance of her herbal extracts, was slowly able to erase Carter’s memories of O’Neill. One by one, they vanished until they were no more.

Once Lady Morgana was sure the memories had all been removed, she removed her hand. She was tired, dead tired, but there was still work to do.

Peering into what was O’Neill’s room, she noticed Turlough had returned and had quietly and efficiently cleaned and straightened the room. The room looked as if no one had slept there at all that night. O’Neill’s pack and damp clothing hanging by the fireplace had been removed as well—the other articles of clothing moved so as to not draw attention to the missing items.

She gathered her strength and walked across the sitting room to where Teal’c lay. His deep meditation had moved to a deep sleep. For some reason, being around her race caused all kinds of reactions with the Jaffa, including peculiar sleeping patterns. But when it came to this kind of mind control, the Jaffa were easy to manipulate, she recalled. She had done these very things years ago when they had first rid this planet of those who thought they were gods. They were nothing but power hungry parasites. She finished quickly with Teal’c and moved onto Jackson.

This one, she knew just by looking at him, would be a challenge. She added an extra dose of the extract to the cloth before she applied it to his nose and mouth. Sure enough, he struggled and tried to push her hands away. His eyes flew open, settling on her but unseeing. Sleep quickly overcame him and he settled down again. Concentrating and focusing her thoughts, she placed her hand across his temples and began reciting those ancient, alien words she had spoken twice before this very night. If Jackson had been awake, he wouldn’t have even been able to decipher them.

As she had figured, it was a struggle. He did not want to let his memories go. But sure enough, one by one, they freed themselves from his mind. One by one, they vanished.

She lifted her hand and brushed it across her face. She swayed on her feet, exhausted, but aroused by her victory.

In the minds of his closest friends—his team—Colonel Jack O’Neill was no more.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Sam Carter woke to sunlight on her face. It was a pleasant feeling. Warm. Soothing. Peaceful. She enjoyed the warmth offered by the morning sun, extending her arms above her head, her muscles stretching luxuriously, easing the sleepiness out of her frame. Yesterday had been a good day. They had found the ribbon device, met the natives, and established that they were amenable to an alliance. What could be better?

Checking her watch, she was surprised to see it was already 1000 hours. Her forehead creased in concentration. What time did they get to bed last night? The last thing she remembered was talking with Lady Morgana. She wished she had gotten more of an opportunity to speak with Lord Kentigern last night. According to Morgana, he was involved in discussions with the representative from the village Glyn Cuch, some ten days walk from Meath. From first hand experience, Sam knew that local relations were more important than a few questions from an astrophysicist and gate traveler.

She didn’t remember much about the stranger. He had been quiet and nondescript. But from what she observed, the negotiations had gone well between them. Lord Kentigern and the stranger had seemed to get along famously throughout the night. She hoped the negotiations with the SGC would go as well when they finally returned.

Sam sat up in her bed, squinting up through the small window to the cloudless sky above. Well, it’s a nice day for a hike, she thought, remembering the trek to the village in the pouring rain. That hadn’t been fun, but in the long run, things had worked out well.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching her arms above her head once again, trying to wake up. She yawned widely making her eyes water. While she rubbed the moisture out of her eyes she rose quietly and padded over to the half-open door, pushing it open fully. The sitting room was quiet, the fire low, but still burning. She walked across the room, absently checking the clothes hanging near the fireplace as she stepped past them, noticing they were dry and warm. She bent down, grabbed the iron fireplace implement, and poked at the smoldering fire. She added a few logs and, within minutes, had built the fire up again. A smile came to her face as she rubbed her hands together, enjoying the warmth. It reminded her of her childhood, vacationing in the mountains with her family, sitting in front of the fireplace in the cabin they rented every year. Those were good times—at least until mom died.

A tap at the door brought her out of her reverie and back to the present. She crossed the room quickly and quietly, opening the door to reveal Nerys and another woman holding trays of food and drink.

"I am sorry to disturb you, but I thought you might like some sustenance this morning to break your fast."

Sam stepped back to allow them to enter. "Thank you, Nerys. You are very thoughtful. I’m ravenous. How did you know I was awake?"

They placed the trays on the table by the fireplace, the scent of fresh bread wafting on the air. Nerys turned back to Sam. "I did not know. If you had not answered my knock, I would have simply left these trays for you. I did not expect you to be awake for some time yet. Most are still asleep."

"I’m an early riser and besides, we have to be going soon. They are expecting us at home later today and we have quite a hike ahead of us."

"Yes, my lady. I understand. If you require anything else, please let me know." Nerys said, bowing slightly as she slowly closed the door behind her.

"Thank you, Nerys. This will be fine, perfect actually." Sam smiled again as the door closed. People this considerate and welcoming were a nice change from the rough and rowdy natives they were generally used to. For some reason, no matter how friendly the inhabitants were, SG1 usually managed to get themselves into trouble. It was a knack. This time, though, she was actually going to look forward to returning to start the negotiations.

A voice cut into her thoughts. "Major Carter, are you well?"

She turned to Teal’c, not surprised he was up and realized she was hugging herself trying to keep warm. And to top it off, she was smiling to herself. She moved to the fireplace and the steaming food.

"I’m fine, Teal’c. Actually quite rested. How are you doing this morning? Feeling better than you were yesterday?" She quickly took stock of the breakfast items on the trays: fresh fruit and breads and freshly churned butter. She grabbed a roll that was still warm to the touch and got busy buttering it. The butter was creamy and sweet and melted into the bread. She also located a pot of some type of steaming black liquid—the local version of coffee she figured—and poured a cup.

"I am well, Major Carter," said Teal’c, standing at parade rest. She glanced up quickly at him, noticing that he did look much better than yesterday. A good night’s sleep always helps to put things in perspective. Teal’c looked toward Daniel’s room. "Should I wake Daniel Jackson?"

Sam glanced at her watch, noting the time. She hated to wake him and she knew he was probably going to have a hell of a hangover, but what else could she do? "Yeah, Teal’c, you had better. I don’t want to hear him complaining later that he didn’t get enough time to get himself together. We should probably try to be out of here in an hour. That will give us plenty of time to get back to the gate and get some more samples on the way."

"I concur." He turned to the room, nudging the door open wider so he could pass through. Daniel was still asleep, lying on his stomach. He was tangled in the blankets, but yet he had somehow managed to be completely covered except for a tuft of hair that showed. Teal’c approached the bed, leaned down, and gently shook the sleeping form.

Soon enough, an eye opened and Daniel was greeted by a very close-up view of Teal’c’s face.

"Teal’c," Daniel muttered. "What time is it?" He brought his hand up to his head. "Ugh…what was in that wine last night?"

Sam stood at the door, listening carefully. "Nothing that shouldn’t have been. How are you doing?"

Daniel shifted in the bed, turning his bleary eyes to her. "Headache. Big headache. You?"

"I’m fine. Rested. So’s Teal’c. Ready for some breakfast? We have to pack up and get on our way in about an hour."

"Food…uh… no…Got anything else?" Daniel turned over and sat up slowly in the bed, probably trying to make sure the room didn’t spin, Sam figured. By the time she returned only a few beats later, Daniel hadn’t moved a muscle, his eyes closed tightly together. She placed a warm mug in his hand.

"Here, try this. It’s the local version of coffee and it’s not bad."

"Thanks," he said, opening his eyes and smiling gratefully as he cradled the cup between his hands, warming them. As he took an experimental sip, Sam could see him relax as the liquid spread down, warming his body from the inside. He took another sip before he tried to swing his feet over the edge of the bed. When his bare feet hit the cold stone floor he hissed and quickly pulled them back.

"Sam, can you toss me those socks?" he asked, indicating a small pile near her feet. He placed his mug down carefully beside him on the bed, doing his best not to spill its precious contents. She fished through the pile of clothing, finding the socks he’d indicated. He caught the socks she threw him, quickly putting them on his feet.

"Daniel, it’s warmer out here if you can manage to hoist your lazy butt out of bed," she said smiling. It was fun to tease Daniel—especially when he was in this kind of a state. Besides, he was usually so good. It wasn’t every day that you got to see Daniel waking up with a hangover. It rarely happened and especially not on a mission. Besides, now it was so easy to pick on him. Teal’c stood silently between, them watching the exchange.

Daniel glanced up, annoyance crossing his face for a second before he realized she was pulling his leg. "Yeah, yeah. When did you say we had to leave?"

"Soon. I’d like to get out of here within the hour. That should give us plenty of time to get back to the gate and pick up some more samples along the way. Think you can manage that?"

"Sure, Sam," he said, taking a large gulp of his beverage. "I just have to get dressed. You know what, Sam?"

She turned back to the door and Daniel. "What?"

"I think we should negotiate for some of this stuff, too," Daniel said, holding up his mug. "It’s pretty good. Cleared my head already."

Sam smiled affectionately, comfortably. "Ya sure you betcha. I’ll make sure that’s on the list, right below cultural exchange of information."

"Actually, Sam, coffee should be just above it, if you’re going alphabetically." Daniel smiled.

"Daniel, get yourself together. We move out in 45 minutes." Sam said walking back to her room.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Thirty minutes later, SG1 was standing in the great hall before Lord Kentigern, bidding him farewell.

"It was enlightening to meet people such as yourselves. I look forward to renewing our acquaintances when you return."

"Lord Kentigern, it is our pleasure," Daniel said, stepping forward. "We shall return and when we do we shall exchange knowledge of our cultures and our peoples and work on building a mutually beneficial relationship between the two." He bowed in respect and stepped back. Teal’c and Sam echoed his action.

"Thank you, Daniel Jackson. Your words ring true. I look forward to this time of which you speak." Lord Kentigern looked past them at the figures approaching. SG1 turned to see Egan and Hywel. "These will guide you to the great stone circle and keep you safe along the way."

"Thank you," said Sam. She paused a moment before continuing. "My Lord, I was hoping to speak with the Lady Morgana before we departed. Is she available?"

"She wished to be here this morning to bid you farewell, but other matters have taken her attention. She sends her regrets, but also her wishes to see you when you return."

"Please tell her that I look forward to seeing her again as well." Sam turned to SG1. "Are we ready?" A glance at Teal’c and Daniel showed they were. "Lord Kentigern, thank you for your hospitality and for your guides."

"You are more than welcome, Samantha Carter," he said, smiling broadly. "May your travels be pleasurable and safe."

"This way, if you please," Egan said quietly, indicating the doors. SG1 followed quickly. They had a long walk ahead of them and it was already getting late. Nerys waited at the doors for them, a pack in her hand.

"My Lady," she said, handing Sam the package. "Here are some breads and dried meats to take with you for your mid-day meal. I would have given you wine as well, but I see you already have something to drink," she said, indicating the canteen from which Daniel was drinking. Sam was sure he was still nursing a whopper of a headache, but between the local coffee and the aspirin the blinding pain should have gone away, leaving only a dull throb. A dull throb was a lot easier to tolerate.

Sam nodded and took the package gratefully. "You have all been so kind to us. Thank you. We will bring this with us." She smiled and followed Egan and Hywel out the door into the bright sunshine.

It was a beautifully crisp day—sunny, bright, and warm in the sun. There was also a cool, pleasant breeze. Daniel was busy staring at everything and everybody as they walked down the main road. She could see his mind working, taking in everything. She wouldn’t be surprised to see him hunched over his computer tonight trying to jot everything down before the memories of this place could fade—not that they would, Sam thought. She knew it would be a long time before she could forget this place and its people.

The hike back to the gate went quicker than she thought it would, maybe because Daniel couldn’t stop asking questions about what he had seen. It made for interesting conversation. She was still amazed at how patient Egan and Hywel were. She had to admit that they were also asking their own fair share of questions, though. Along the way, she was able to grab samples of the local plant life, some of which Egan pointed out had special properties to heal. You could never tell where the next medical breakthrough would come from, so as long as the medical community didn’t ask where exactly they found it, everything would be okay. It wasn’t as if you could explain that the cure for cancer came from a planet halfway across the galaxy. She made sure she got a little bit of everything. It would keep the botanists back at the SGC busy for a while.

The MALP was right where they had left it, sitting in front of the gate. She checked her watch. It was just about 1300 and they had a little time to do some local exploration before they dialed home. They tried to convince Egan and Hywel to stay and eat lunch with them, but they declined, saying they had to get back to the village.

Once their guides had departed with friendly hugs and farewells, SG1 settled in for lunch. Daniel took the remainder of the afternoon puttering around the ruins near the gate while Sam wandered around snagging additional rock and soil samples. The ground wasn’t nearly as soft and muddy as it had been the day before.

Teal’c stood patiently, ever vigilant, gazing out across the hills and valleys that could clearly be seen from their vantage point. Flocks of birds soared through the skies, taking refuge in the trees in the forests below. Sam sighed quietly, realizing she had been staring at the vista before her for several minutes. It was a beautiful world, so full of life. She was actually disappointed that they had to return home so quickly. But, they had their orders.

She sighed, walking back to the MALP, placing the last rock in its bag before strapping everything to the MALP. It was time to go home. Teal’c was ready, standing beside her. She glanced around, looking for Daniel. He wasn’t in sight.

"Daniel, are you about ready?" She called out. His head poked out from behind some rocks almost immediately.

"Sure, Sam. Just give me a minute. You can start dialing home if you want." He ducked back down.

She turned to the DHD and began inputting the symbols for Earth but started frowning as soon as her hand hit the first glyph. "Daniel, did you look at the DHD before we went to Meath?"

Daniel’s head popped back over the rocks, a puzzled look on his face. "No, Sam, I didn’t. You said everything looked like it was in order when we got here. Is there something wrong?"

"I’m not sure. The DHD just feels wrong."

"Feels wrong?" She could almost feel his frown across the clearing. Teal’c’s eyebrow was heading up his forehead, his normally impassive face showing concern.

"I don’t know." She tried to explain while she punched another glyph. "It’s almost like the DHD is covered in molasses or something. My hand tingles a little when I touch the glyphs, but it seems to be working fine."

"Are you sure we’re going to be okay?" Daniel apparently had given up whatever had had been doing and was walking carefully to the gate, avoiding the loose rocks, his journal in hand.

"We should be. I’ll send the MALP through first and warn General Hammond that we might have a problem," she concluded, punching the last few glyphs.

Once the wormhole was established, she sent the iris code through and briefly informed General Hammond of the situation.

"Major, send the MALP through and we’ll let you know what happens on this end," ordered General Hammond. While she had been talking to the General, Teal’c had maneuvered the MALP toward the gate, and was now waiting for Sam’s signal.

"Sir, Teal’c’s about ready to send the MALP through."

"Thank you, Major."

While they watched the MALP vanish into the event horizon, Sam looked around for what she hoped was the last time this trip. Catching Daniel’s eye, she spoke up, trying to break the uneasy silence. If this didn’t work, they weren’t getting home anytime soon. "Did you get everything you needed?"

"Yeah, I guess," he answered, his eyes straying back to the whirling blue liquid before them. "I copied down some of the symbols on the stones. I’m going to try and match them up when I get home."

Behind him, Sam noticed a lone darkly colored bird settle on a tree limb. She pulled her attention back to the present when she heard Hammond’s voice cutting through the air on her radio.

"Major Carter?"

Depressing the button, she answered. "Yes, sir?"

"It seems like everything is fine on this end. The MALP is through without any problems."

"Thank you, sir. We’ll be through momentarily. Carter out." She turned to the rest of the team. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry anyone needlessly…" she began.

"Apology is never needed when caution is required," Teal’c replied favoring her with a level look. "It is always wise to be cautious when gate travel is involved."

"Yeah, Sam. It’s no problem. I’d rather be safe than sorry, myself," Daniel said.

"I know, but I made you all worry for nothing."

"Speak no more of it Major Carter."

"Thanks, Teal’c, Daniel, Sam said, flashing both of them a grateful smile. "Teal’c, why don’t you head on through."

"Very well, Major Carter." Teal’c nodded toward Carter and stepped through the vortex.

A grin brightened Daniel’s face and Sam knew something was sure to come out of his mouth. Sure enough, a beat or two later, Daniel started speaking. "You know Sam, all in all, I haven’t felt this satisfied about a first contact in a long time."

"I know what you mean." She paused before continuing. "You know, Daniel, I sometimes envy your wide-eyed innocence. Even though you’ve been through some horrible things, it always amazes me that you can be so optimistic about the basic goodness of people." She turned away, gathering her thoughts. Looking back, she gazed directly into his eyes. "It’s nice to finally be able to see that there are still some good people left for us to find."

Daniel returned her smile, his appreciation at her words clearly evident on his face. "I know. Let’s go. Teal’c’s going to think we’re not coming."

When they stepped through on the SGC side of the wormhole, Teal’c was at the bottom of the ramp, maneuvering the MALP out of the way. Some SGC staff members were already unloading the sample bags. Colonel Yearwood and SG5 were getting ready to ship out and were loitering in the gateroom, waiting for SG1’s return. They had a quick mission, checking in with the natives on a planet that SG2 had encountered several months ago. General Hammond stood in the control room, watching the activity. If he was on base, he liked to welcome the SG teams back—call it tradition.

Once Sam and Daniel stepped through and the iris closed behind them, he leaned forward to speak into the microphone, a perplexed expression on his face. "Welcome back SG1. Where’s Colonel O’Neill?"

Sam looked at Daniel and Teal’c at the bottom of the ramp. They all wore similarly puzzled expressions. She stopped at the bottom of the ramp, looking up at Hammond as if he had three heads. "Colonel who, sir? This is all of SG1, back safe and sound. And we have good news to report about the people on the planet."

Hammond’s eyes narrowed. There was no use arguing here, out in the open. "SG1, report to the infirmary immediately. We’ll debrief when you’ve been checked out by Dr. Fraiser."

"Yes, sir," she said, stepping down from the ramp and following Daniel and Teal’c out the door to the infirmary. Something wasn’t quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She shook her head as the door to the gateroom slid shut behind her. And who was Colonel O’Neill and why would he have shipped out with SG1? She shrugged her shoulders, pushing the thoughts aside. She had a report to write tonight. It was time to start getting her thoughts in order. It was never too early to start.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Janet, really, I’m fine," Sam said for what seemed like the hundredth time since she had gotten to the infirmary. They had already been here three hours and she was getting tired and fed up. No post-mission exam ever took this long. She glared at Dr. Janet Fraiser, Stargate Command’s CMO, and was rewarded by the stick of yet another needle in her arm. "Ow! What’s come over you, Janet? Your bedside manner tonight leaves something to be desired."

"Sorry, Sam. I’ll just be a minute more," Fraiser said simply, stepping back. She drew the curtain around the bed and a very annoyed Major Carter. Fraiser shook her head in disbelief. From her preliminary tests on all three members of SG1, they were in perfect health and nothing was physically wrong with them. Mentally was another matter, although they seemed, for all intents and purposes, to be in their right minds. What she couldn’t fathom was how they could forget someone as close to them as Colonel Jack O’Neill. Something was wrong and she was determined to find it.

She poked her head into another curtained area to check on Daniel. He was busy scribbling in his journal, nearly oblivious to the nurses around him. He just got annoyed at them when they interfered with his writing. That was typical Daniel.

She sighed softly and went to check on Teal’c. He was meditating. Again, normal for Teal’c.

She walked back to her office and to a patiently waiting General Hammond. He was standing in front of her desk looking a little out of place.

"General Hammond, sir," she said, closing the door behind her. She knew why he was here. She just wished he wasn’t, since she didn’t have much in the way of good news. "I don’t know what to tell you, sir. They are SG1 and, from all the preliminary tests, they are the same people who left here yesterday morning. I just can’t figure out how they could completely block out Colonel O’Neill."

"Doctor, could it be some kind of drug or mind control? A group hallucination? A shared consciousness? Our people have been exposed to some strange things over the years," he suggested.

She moved behind her desk and wearily dropped into her chair. Over the past few years, the SG teams had managed to bring home an interesting array of diseases and conditions, but this one was stranger than most. It definitely made her job more interesting—especially since she was the CMO in a facility housed some 28 stories underground. The most some of her colleagues in similar positions had to put up with was the random and dreaded "red tape" paper cut. Sometimes she wished life was so easy, but all things told, she wouldn’t give up this assignment. In the past few years she’d witnessed first-hand more advances in medical science—from the practical application of nanotechnology and genetic engineering to the healing effects of an alien symbiote—than had happened in the past fifty years. Give this up? Never would be too soon.

Hammond settled easily in her guest chair across the desk from her and patiently waited for her to pull her thoughts together. "I don’t know, sir. I wish the explanation were that easy. SG1 has been exposed to a variety of alien substances, but this is different than anything else we’ve encountered. If I knew SG1's symptoms were the result of some type of drug or substance, at least then I’d know what I should be looking for. All my initial drug tests have come back negative, but the more detailed blood work might show something. I won’t get that back for a few hours yet and I don’t even know what I’m looking for." She paused for a moment, wiping her hand across her face, weary. She wasn’t sure if it was her exhaustion that made her ask, but the question came unbidden to her lips. "Sir, what kind of people could take away memories without leaving a trace?"

"I don’t know, Doctor. All I do know for sure is that I have a missing officer and his team is in the infirmary with no memory of him going missing. They are the answer and I intend to get it from them." Hammond stood, walking to the door. He turned before he opened it.

"General, I hate to ask this, but if they could take memories away, what else could be missing? What could they have taken from them?"

"That was my first thought, Doctor," Hammond said, looking grim. "I’ve already changed all the codes that Colonel O’Neill and the rest of SG1 used."

"Sir, are you going to send another team back to look for Colonel O’Neill?"

"Right now, I can’t in good conscience send another team back to the planet when we don’t have more information about what happened to SG1 in the first place. I have no idea what else they might have forgotten. Until I can get more substantive material, I’m not going to send anyone back. I know that’s not comforting, but Colonel O’Neill is very resourceful and quite capable of taking care of himself." Hammond took a deep breath before he spoke again. "Are they well enough to leave the infirmary?"

"Sir, I can’t keep them here because they’re fine as far as I can tell. I would recommend having them confined to the base. They could be carrying something we still can’t detect," she said, rising from her chair to follow the General.

"Agreed, Doctor. As soon as you have anything, let me know." Hammond walked out the door and into the infirmary where SG1 waited. She stood by her door, watching SG1 carefully. The curtains had been pulled back and they were all lounging in the infirmary, waiting for the other shoe. She could tell they were uneasy. She’d kept them here longer than she usually did without a good explanation. There was something going on and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She eavesdropped while General Hammond stopped at Sam’s bedside, where she paced back and forth—a tendency much like that of the commanding officer she had completely forgotten.

"General, sir," Sam said, coming to attention.

"At ease, Major. Dr. Fraiser has released you from the infirmary so we’ll debrief in one hour. Why don’t you get changed and grab something to eat?" Fraiser smiled when she watched him turn on the charm—smiling in as fatherly a manner as he could, without letting his worry show through. General Hammond had good instincts. He knew it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, at least for now. They didn’t know anything, so why upset them? That time would come soon enough.

"Yes, sir. We’ll do that." Sam smiled as he walked away, the relief clear in her face. Finally, they were getting out.

Sam walked down to where Daniel and Teal’c were resting. She stood before them, hands deep in her pockets.

"The General got us sprung. We have a briefing in an hour. Anyone up for some dinner?" She looked at her watch, realizing the hour. "We’re already late. Hope they kept something warm."

Teal’c’s eyes had snapped open as soon as Sam began speaking. He rose to stand at Jackson’s side. Jackson, on the other hand, looked up absently from the notes he was writing in his journal, words on his lips. How many of those journals he had, Fraiser would never know. Hundreds, maybe thousands, containing his impressions of all the worlds they’ve visited. Some good, some bad.

Daniel’s eyes slowly focused on Sam, but he was still in his own world. Working on autopilot, he hopped off the bed. "Sure, Sam." Teal’c nodded his head in agreement and followed Sam and Daniel out.

Fraiser watched them leave from her vantage point by the door of her office. While they acted normal, there was something missing—a big something missing. She sighed and turned back to her charts and test results. Time to get back to work.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Sam, what if what they’re saying is true?" Daniel asked as they walked down the drab gray corridors to the commissary.

"What?"

"Didn’t you hear them in the infirmary? They were saying something about us leaving our fourth behind. Could it be that we have another team member but we just can’t remember him?" Daniel looked worried and tired—the whites of his normally bright blue eyes turning reddish. He rubbed at them angrily, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the weariness away. They entered the commissary, noting the distinct lack of people. The emptiness was good. At least they could talk without worrying about an audience, without worrying if people thought they were nuts.

"Daniel, I don’t know," Sam said, shaking her head, displeased at the very thought that they would leave someone behind. They were SG1 and that just didn’t happen. She picked up a tray and reached for a ham and cheese sandwich, gesturing with her free hand. "From what you saw, do you think those people we met could have possibly done anything to us, especially in the few hours we were there? They have no advanced technology. They live in a primitive culture and society."

"But Sam, who are we to say whether a society is primitive or not?" Daniel looked adamantly at Sam, daring her to argue the point as he followed behind her, absently grabbing a sandwich from the case. "I mean, compared to the Tollan or the Nox, we are a primitive and…a…young society and look what we can do."

"I get your point Daniel, but how could they do something to all of us? Teal’c and I are usually immune to most of the things we come in contact with, thanks to the naquadah floating around in our bloodstream."

"But see, that’s what worries me. What if they could? What if they can control our minds and take away our memories?" Daniel put a slice of apple pie alongside the tuna salad sandwich he had picked up. He grabbed a cup and began filling it with coffee. At least the coffee was hot.

"Daniel Jackson," Teal’c said, placing a Caesar salad on his tray, "the Goa’uld do not have the technology to which you refer. It is unlikely that the people of Meath have such an ability."

"But that’s just it, Teal’c," Daniel said getting excited. Sam could see his tired eyes light up from within as they usually did when he was engrossed in his subject. "What if they do have some type of rare ability?"

"But Daniel, these people were originally from Earth. How could they have changed so drastically? It’s not like humans have special powers. We don’t have x-ray vision or mind control abilities," Sam argued, sitting down at a table in the far corner of the room. Just in case someone walked in, she didn’t want to be the center of attention—but if she knew the base grapevine, SG1 already was the center of attention today. No need to add fuel to the fire. Daniel and Teal’c sat down across from her, the conversation continuing.

"Yes, but what if they weren’t the only ones on the planet when the Goa’uld got there?" He frowned at the tuna sandwich in his hand and placed it back on the plate without taking a bite, concentrating on the apple pie instead.

"Daniel Jackson, if that were the case, would they have not evolved further than what we have observed?" Teal’c poked at his salad, mixing the dressing around before digging in with gusto.

"I don’t know, Teal’c, but that’s the only answer I can come up with," Daniel said apologetically.

"Let’s wait and see what else comes back in the tests Janet ran on us and we’ll go from there," Sam suggested, polishing off half of her sandwich. She was hungrier than she had thought. "I still plan on recommending an alliance with them."

"I agree, Sam. I’m also interested in finding out more about that ribbon device we found. I wonder whose it was." Daniel swallowed a bite of his apple pie and then pointed his fork at Teal’c as another thought occurred to him. "Teal’c, did your weird feeling ever go away while you were there?"

"No, Daniel Jackson, it did not. As soon as I returned to the SGC I felt like myself once again."

"What could have caused such an adverse reaction in Teal’c?" Daniel asked turning back to Sam, a perplexed expression on his face.

She shrugged and frowned. Her fingers ticked off the possibilities. "I don’t know. It could be anything, the air, the water, the soil, the plants. He could have had an adverse allergic reaction to something there for all we know."

Daniel smiled. "Isn’t that my line?"

She returned his grin. "Usually, I would agree." Looking at her watch, she rose from the table. "I’m going to go to my lab and start running some tests on the rock samples we brought back. I’ll meet you in the briefing room in 30 minutes."

"Okay. I think I’ll just sit here and finish my coffee. It’ll give me a chance to write some of this stuff down before I forget." Sam and Teal’c quickly turned back to him as he cringed slightly at his choice of words. He ducked his head sheepishly, grimacing. "Sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Daniel Jackson. If what General Hammond has told us is correct, we have all forgotten." Teal’c rose from the table. "I will join you in the briefing room when it is time." He inclined his head to both of them and walked out of the commissary.

"Don’t beat yourself up, Daniel," Sam said. "Like Teal’c said, we’re all in the same boat. We’ll figure this out eventually."

"Yeah, but what if they’re right and we’re too late?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam sighed deeply, settling herself into her lab chair. Her desk was covered in paper and files from various projects. Sometimes she wished she had more time for research, but she didn’t think she would ever be able to give up the thrill and excitement of first contact.

A few minutes later, a light tapping at the door, pulled her attention away from some of the lab reports she was working on. Janet Fraiser stood at the door, her arms filled with papers and files, a hesitant expression on her face.

"Hey Janet, come in. What can I do for you?" Sam asked, leaning back, stretching the kinks out of her lean frame.

"Hey Sam," Janet said, stepping into the dimly lit office. "Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk with you."

"Sure, but I have to be in the briefing room in a few minutes. What’s up?"

"I just wanted to show you something," Janet said clearing a spot to put down her armload of paperwork. From within the pile she pulled a folder and placed it in front of Sam. "Do you remember any of these?" she asked, opening to the first page.

Sam picked up the picture, her eyes narrowing as she concentrated. "No, Janet," she said, pointing to one of the people in the photographs. "Who is he? He’s not too bad looking, a little worn around the edges maybe. Why do you ask?"

"How about any of the others? Do you recognize anyone?"

Sam flipped through the photos, smiling as she recognized Daniel and Teal’c and herself in several, but the same man appeared in every image. "No. I remember most of these missions, but I’ve never seen this guy before." Sam looked up, smiling broadly at Janet. "I know, you’re trying to hook me up again and you had someone in the labs alter the pictures for you. You know they did a good job. I can’t tell how they spliced them together."

"I didn’t do anything, Sam. These are real pictures."

"Janet, you know me and my memory. I don’t forget a thing. I’m sure I’d remember this guy if I’d seen him before," Sam closed the file in a huff as she slid from the chair. "Look, this was a great little practical joke, but I have a debriefing I have to get to."

"Sam—" Janet started, obviously upset with the way the conversation had gone.

"Janet, look I’m sorry I called your bluff and all, but I don’t want to be late," Sam said, picking up the files she needed for her meeting. "I’ll talk to you later."

"Fine, Sam," Janet said quietly as Sam stepped out of the room, her response lost in the sound of Sam’s retreating footsteps.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack O’Neill woke to complete darkness. Not the darkness normally associated with nighttime, but an all-encompassing darkness—heavy, smothering.

"Huh?" he said, hearing the sound echo off the walls. He tried to sit up but discovered that his muscles were stiff. It was like he had slept in the same position for hours. His mouth was cottony as if he hadn’t had anything to drink in days. But that couldn’t be right, could it? Come to think of it, he didn’t remember closing the door either, but it was apparently closed now.

He cautiously sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge to rest his bare feet lightly on the cold stone floor. The room was cool and the air hitting his legs and arms made the hair stand up on end. He rubbed his hands briskly across his arms, trying to warm them.

His head felt a little fuzzy, but from what he could tell, he was in one piece. He rubbed a hand across his face, trying to clear his mind, and encountered a few days worth of stubble. That was not encouraging. He waved his hand in front of his face, trying to see it before him, but was unsuccessful. The blackness was absolute.

It was time to do a little reconnaissance.

His initial feeling when he woke was that he had to be in a very small room inside the castle in which he had fallen asleep. There’s only one way to find out, he thought grimacing. He leaned forward, his hand outstretched, feeling for the wall he instinctively knew was there. Sure enough, only inches away—and much closer than he had originally thought—was a solid stone wall. He got up; swaying slightly as his stiff muscles tried to adjust to the new position. The darkness didn’t help with his equilibrium.

This was not looking good, he thought, as he felt along the wall, searching for a door. He found it soon enough. The room wasn’t large, barely big enough to fit the bed in which he had woken. The door, of course, was like every other door he had seen here—big, thick, and impenetrable.

His watch was gone and in his exploration of the dark room, he noticed his pack was not there either. The rest of his clothes had also absconded, leaving him with only his black T-shirt and boxers. Not the best attire for any long-term…situation. How long he had been in here—wherever here was—he did wasn’t sure. He could feel a few day’s worth of stubble on his chin, but that just confused him. It couldn’t have been that long, could it? All he was sure about was this was not the same room in which he had fallen asleep.

Where was his team? He tried calling out to Carter, Daniel, and Teal’c, his voice echoing strangely in the small windowless room, but got no reply. Maybe they were incapacitated. Maybe they were still unconscious. Maybe they were somewhere else.

With nothing to see, he decided that since he had few other options, he would sit and wait until someone came for him. Not that he had much choice in the matter, he thought ruefully. He settled himself down on the bed, pulling the blankets over him.

How much time passed before someone came for him, he didn’t know. He drifted in and out of sleep while he waited. He tried walking around, just to keep the muscles from stiffening up too much, but the room didn’t give him much in the way of space for movement and besides, he was very tired. That in itself should have tipped him off that something was wrong, but he was too tired to realize. He was sleeping lightly when they came, but he heard them in the adjoining room. Muted voices. More than one.

"Hey!" he said, getting up and pounding on the door. "Hey, what’s going on? Where’s my team?"

Moments later, he heard scraping on the other side of the door. He stood back, waiting for the door to open before him.

The light blinded him and he covered his eyes with his hand, trying to squint through slitted eyes and fingers at the figure that stood before him. He was grabbed roughly by the arms and dragged into a larger room and into the light, his eyes tearing, as he tried to make sense of the blurred images before him. He was placed in a chair and two pairs of hands held his shoulders, effectively confining him to the chair.

This is not a good sign, he thought, wiping the tears from his eyes. His eyes were adjusting, but it was taking some time. Once his eyes focused, he was surprised to see Lady Morgana before him.

"Lady Morgana?" he asked, confused. He had to have been in his cell a long time in order for him to be so sensitive to the dim lighting in the room. That worried him, but he tried not to let anyone notice his discomfort and confusion. "What’s going on? Where’s the rest of my team?"

She gestured to the two men behind him and immediately he felt them remove their hands from his shoulders. They stood back, within reach, but at least they weren’t holding him down any more. It was a start.

"Your team departed two mornings ago," she said matter-of-factly. "I watched them go through the great stone circle."

"What?" O’Neill said, disbelieving. "They wouldn’t have left without me."

"Whether you believe that statement to be true or not does not matter. It is simple. It is a matter of facts that can be verified very easily. They are gone. You, however, are here because I wanted you to remain." She smiled and stepped closer to him, holding his face in her hands. She gazed directly into his eyes. "And, soon enough, you will wish to remain here with me, of your own free will."

O’Neill tried not to flinch as she stared into his eyes, but it was tough. Especially since he sat there in his boxers and his black shirt. Somehow he had managed to misplace the rest of his clothes. He made a mental note to himself: from now on, remain fully clothed at all times. "I don’t think so."

She stepped back, a pleased expression on her face. "I knew you would be stubborn, but I assure you of this: you will be mine."

O’Neill’s facial expression indicated that he thought that would happen about as soon as hell froze over or pigs started flying, but he kept his mouth closed, his comments to himself. He had spotted the door several minutes ago, but he had yet to figure out how he was going to get through it. He was working on a plan, however.

"You can do this the easy way or you can be difficult. It is your choice. Either way has the same outcome."

"Lady, there is no way I would stay here with you. No. Nadda. Nope. No way. You must be outta your cotton pickin’ mind to think I would stay here." He looked at her directly, accusingly. "Besides, don’t you already have a husband?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking down her nose at him. "Lord Kentigern has his uses, but one day he will outlive his usefulness and I will require someone new. You are that someone. You will teach me the secrets of the stone circle and we shall rule this world side by side."

"Oh no, no, no, no, no, no." O’Neill said, shaking his head emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly. His eyes were as cold as steel. "There’s no way I’m staying here with you and there’s no way I’m going to tell you anything about the Stargate. What part of ‘No’ don’t you understand?"

She smiled at him. She was enjoying this. That little fact worried him. It worried him more than he was willing to admit to himself.

"Come, leave him to his thoughts. Perhaps they will convince him, if I cannot." She motioned for the two men to leave the room. She followed behind them but paused at the door, turning back to O’Neill. "We will speak of this again, soon."

She closed the door behind her and he heard something slide down on the other side. He quickly got up, yelling through the closed door. "Hey! How about some food? How about my clothes?" He banged on the door for a little while, but either they were ignoring him—which was highly likely—or they had left the area. He tested the door while he was at it, and sure enough, it was secured in place from the other side. There was no budging to be done. He was stuck in a big, empty room with no heat, no light, and from the looks of it, night was fast approaching. Great, he said to himself, just great. Now what?

He stumbled back to the room where he had awoken hours ago, grabbed a blanket off the bed, and wrapped himself in it. He prowled around the main room, looking for a crack, something, some way to get out. He found nothing except the obvious exit from the room—the thick wooden door. As soon as he had the opportunity to escape, he would make the best of it. But, since there was nothing else to do right now, he settled down to wait.

The time alone gave him a chance to think and that was not always a good thing. On a positive note, at least, he was sitting in the large empty room instead of trapped in that small room in the dark. At least there was a little light from the windows at the ceiling, a good twenty feet above his head. The small, dark room just brought back unpleasant memories of Iraq and those memories wouldn’t do him much good here.

What if she was telling the truth about his team? What if they had gone back home? Why would they have left willingly? Did they think he was dead? If so, how did he supposedly die? A quick examination showed him what he already knew; he had no injuries to speak of. If they thought I was dead, he mused, why didn’t they insist on bringing back the body? Unless…they did bring something back. His mind was awash with the possibilities.

O’Neill, you’re getting maudlin, he chided himself. But, how else would they return home without him? They wouldn’t leave him behind. He’d trained them better than that. It was simple: we don’t leave our people behind. It was their standing order, their rule, and their motto. They knew that. But from where he sat, wrapped in a blanket, slouched against the thick stone wall across from the door, they had done just that.

His stomach growled uncomfortably. He was hungry and thirsty. His mouth was cottony and his tongue felt huge. Who knew how long it had been since he had last eaten or drunk anything. The way he felt, it had been quite some time. A day or more. If his team left two mornings ago, then it was closer to three days. That wasn’t good.

Waiting was always hard to do, especially for him. He was a man of action. He’d rather be doing something, anything. Waiting gave you time to think. To think about the things you had left behind, the life you’d had, the life you could have had, and the life you wanted. It gave you the chance to think about the people in your life—past and present. It gave you the chance to examine the choices you had made in life. The choices that were right, and those that were wrong, and those that were dead wrong and had cost a life.

They’ll come back for me. I know they will, he thought drifting off to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack O’Neill again woke to darkness. It was becoming a habit and one he wasn’t hoping to continue. Sometime during the night, he had shifted his body to lie on the floor. He lifted his head, trying to see through the high windows. From his vantage point, the sky above was dark and clear. The light from the moon provided a little illumination, but not enough to be useful in any way.

He realized a moment later that he wasn’t alone. He turned his head, squinting in the darkness. He could feel the presence of someone, but he couldn’t see him or her, although he had an idea just who it might be. He sat up slowly, resting his back against the wall. He pulled the blanket closer around him trying to keep the cold at bay.

"Are you going to stare at me all night?"

Instead of an answer, a light flashed in the darkness. Lady Morgana placed the now lit candle on the floor next to her. She had moved the only chair in the room to the wall opposite from where he sat and was perched upon it. He was certain that there were guards outside the door. There was no way she would be here alone with him without some sort of protection. She wasn’t stupid, that he could tell. She was probably the smartest one here.

"You know the answer is still going to be no." The cold from the floor and the wall were seeping into his bones. He was getting too old for this. He pulled the blanket tighter around his body wishing he had some more clothes on. Next time I sleep with all my clothes on, no matter where I am, O’Neill quipped to himself. I wonder where my boots went, and my pants, come to think of it, he thought as he eyed the Lady Morgana suspiciously. She wasn’t here for the repartee. Of that, he was sure.

He held his tongue. He waited. He was the epitome of patience. He had all night. He could wait. He had nowhere else to go. Carter would have been proud.

He groaned inwardly at the thought. Carter, his team. He hoped his team was okay. Please let them be home safe and sound like she said they were, he thought. Please don’t let them be stuck in this cold, damp castle far away from home. It was bad enough he was here. If he was the only one they wanted, maybe for once, he could protect his team. Maybe for once, no one else would have to die because of him.

Lady Morgana shifted in the chair. She was still staring. He could feel her eyes upon him. They never left; her gaze never faltered. He lifted his head, returning her gaze with a determined, hardened look.

"Why must you be difficult?"

The words were spoken softly, barely audible across the room.

"Because it’s my nature," he replied simply, smiling humorlessly in the half-light from the candle.

"You do not understand our situation."

"So, explain it to me." His eyes were hard, determined, his voice steel.

She took a breath, as if to settle her thoughts. "You would not understand," she finally said.

"Why? What wouldn’t I understand? That you’re just someone else looking to live forever? That you’re just looking out for numero uno? That you’re just one more alien having delusions of grandeur? I understand that well enough. With people as shallow as you, you’re not that hard to figure out." O’Neill found himself on his feet without realizing he had stood up. He settled the blanket around his shoulders as best he could. He was mad. He was tired. He was angry. He was cold. He was hungry. He didn’t give a damn and he had finally had enough.

Lady Morgana stood, her posture stiff with anger. "Just who do you think you are speaking to a Lady in such a manner and tone?" she asked, her voice raised in anger and surprise.

"I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill. That’s all you need to know. I don’t answer to you. You don’t own me," he shot back, pacing around the room.

"Well, Colonel O’Neill, perhaps you shouldn’t judge us so harshly. Your motives for coming here were not philanthropic."

He couldn’t argue with that, but he didn’t have to tell her that. "And just how would you know?"

"From the questions you ask, to the weapons you carry, to the very members of your team."

He stopped suddenly, turning to face her, his eyes hard and cold. "What about my team?"

"You command a Jaffa. Surely you do not think we are stupid. You may think we are a primitive people compared to you, but we are not stupid. Far from it."

He waved his hand absently as if the very action could make her, this conversation, and the whole planet go away. "Teal’c’s harmless."

"To you perhaps he is harmless, to us it is another matter entirely. He is at your command. He answers to you. We are familiar with the Jaffa and their leaders. If need be, we can defeat them—and you—again." Her eyes flashed with anger.

"What do you mean again? When were the Goa’uld here?" O’Neill vaguely remembered Daniel digging up a ribbon device at the ruins near the Stargate, but there wasn’t any other sign of Goa’uld technology. What was this woman talking about? His eyes widened as he thought about what she had said. "You think I’m a Goa’uld?"

"You do have a Jaffa under your command."

"Yeah, but if you hadn’t already noticed, my eyes don’t glow and I don’t go around pretending to be a god and trying to take over the planet—unlike some other people I know," he said looking pointedly at her. "Besides, Teal’c’s not like that. He left the service of his false god years ago to join us in our fight against the Goa’uld."

"So then, we are on the same side. Why do you choose not to aid us?"

She was determined, he’d give her that, but he’d had enough. "Because," he said, getting in her face, "I don’t particularly like domineering, egotistical women who think they can bat their eyes at me and think that I’ll just roll over for them. I’m not that kind of guy." He had gotten close to her and with a quick movement spun her around, one hand across her face to stop her from screaming out and the other wrapped around her waist, effectively pinning her arms at her sides. He started moving across the floor toward the small side room. She struggled, but for the moment he was in charge. The element of surprise had given him the upper hand.

He spoke quietly, harshly, into her ear. "Now, we’ll see how much you enjoy this nice little cage. I think it’s time I went exploring."

He got her inside the room, quickly releasing her and tossing her toward the bed, shutting the door behind her. He secured it quickly, sliding the wood in place. The dull thuds started almost immediately. She was pounding at the door. She’d give that up sooner or later. Now, he thought, rubbing his hands together, it was time to get rid of the guards.

The door was closed, so peeking out of it was not an option. Peeking would just give him away. Besides, he was black ops trained—there was no peeking in black ops. He just had to go for it. He had plenty of training in hand-to-hand combat. He was sure he would be able to make a fairly clean getaway. That is, if the guard was where he thought he would be.

He shrugged off the blanket, braced himself, regulating his breath, and gave himself a mental count of three before he swung the door open quickly, surprising the guard. The guard was right where he figured he would be standing. O’Neill moved quickly. A blow to the back of the guard’s neck rendered him unconscious immediately. The guard slumped at his feet without raising a cry of alarm. Actually, without a peep. For a big guy, he sure fell easily. So far, so good, he thought. Not bad for a half-naked old guy who was a little worn around the edges. Bra'tac would have been proud.

He was glad there had only been one guard. If there had been two or more, he might have been in trouble. He was still a little shaky on his feet. Dehydration and lack of food would do that to you. The sudden exercise didn’t help either.

He started moving cautiously along the hallway, his bare feet hardly making any sound on the tiles. He tried to take his mind off the cold and the dampness of the castle. Wandering around in your skivvies in a dark and drafty castle was not generally recommended. Neither was getting left behind in that castle, come to think of it. He chuckled to himself. Not a good sign, Jack, he thought. You’re talking to yourself.

Torches in the hall provided adequate light. He figured he was in an unused part of the castle, since many of the rooms he was passing were dark and empty of furniture. One or two had furnishings, but they were few and far between. He passed several dark doorways leading to other parts of the castle. One such doorway led to a narrow passageway that sloped upwards, toward the center of the castle, probably to a turret or something similar.

Luck was not with him tonight, however. Unbeknownst to him, two figures stepped out from one of the darkened doorways he passed. While he was peering around a corner, they came up quietly behind him.

"Colonel O’Neill? What are you doing out here?" the first figure asked quietly, eyeing the scantily clad, barefoot, and shivering Colonel. O’Neill’s head snapped around at the sound behind him, quickly recognizing Turlough, but surprised he hadn’t heard him approach. For big guys, they sure could be quiet, he thought absently.

"What?" he asked. Where had they come from? They stood for a moment, staring at each other, confused.

Turlough and his buddy came to their senses quicker than O’Neill did. They lunged for him, realizing that Lady Morgana was nowhere to be seen. He sidestepped Turlough and managed to throw a good left hook. It connected solidly, but didn’t stop him. O’Neill shook his hand out, wincing in pain. He felt as if he had just punched a brick wall—and it might not be that far from the truth. If he had thrown the punch any harder, he might have broken his hand. His knuckles were tender and sore already and he was just getting started.

Turlough shook off the punch and threw one of his own. O’Neill, usually good at ducking, found his reflexes weren’t up to snuff tonight. He took the punch square on the jaw. He stumbled back, his head thrown back against the wall, hitting it hard. He slumped back, shook his head, but kept his feet. He saw stars but shook it off. Turlough’s buddy, seeing an opening, decided to take advantage. One of his fists got through O’Neill’s feeble attempt at defense and landed solidly in his middle. O’Neill thought he felt a rib crack and a sudden pain flared up his side. He took a breath, trying not to curl up in a ball to protect the sore spot. He had to keep on his feet.

Even though his head was ringing, he continued to put up a fight. He dodged a number of punches, but managed to catch quite a few. At one point, he was sure another cracked rib was added to the mix.

In the melee, he vaguely noticed Turlough’s buddy was gone. He didn’t have time to think about what that might mean for him in the long run. All he could think of was trying to get out of this in good enough condition to walk out of here. He knew he was slowing down, that there wasn’t much time left. The dehydration had left him weak and this beating was doing a number on whatever stores of energy he had remaining. A hard punch to his solar plexus knocked the wind out of him and he instinctively bent over to protect his already bruised ribs. That was going to leave a mark, he thought vaguely, realizing Turlough was coming in for the kill. He knew it was a losing battle, but he couldn’t just give up. He halfheartedly threw a few more punches that were easily sidestepped. After a brief struggle and a few more well-placed bruises on his already aching ribs, O’Neill found himself pushed face-first against the wall, his cheek uncomfortably rubbing against the stone, his arms pulled tightly together behind his back. His cracked and bruised ribs, pressing into the wall, spread fire all along his side. For a gentle guy, Turlough sure packed quite a punch—so did his friend come to think of it. His body ached and his head was swimming.

Apparently, Turlough’s friend had gone down the hall to release Lady Morgana from the room in which O’Neill had locked her. He had also stumbled over the guard O’Neill had incapacitated who was already starting to come around.

Lady Morgana strode down the hall, her head held high, and her green eyes blazing.

She spoke once she got near the struggling man. "O’Neill, I see you have chosen your path." She leaned in closely, whispering harshly in his ear. "Before we are done, you will beg for my mercy. You will beg for my forgiveness. I will see to it. But know this; remember this night. From this point on, you belong to me. "

O’Neill renewed his struggle, trying unsuccessfully to break the hold Turlough had on him. But it was no use. His energy was just about gone and the adrenaline rush was passing.

She turned to Turlough, issuing an order. "Bring him." She turned, striding back down the hall toward one of the darkened doorways he had passed, surprisingly enough, the same doorway Turlough and his friend had come through earlier.

O’Neill had little choice but to follow as Turlough pushed him along, still holding onto him with a secure grip. His arms were starting to ache because of their awkward position behind his back. It was also doing a number on his bruised torso, straining the already sore area. Through the door a narrow passageway led to an equally narrow staircase leading deeper into the castle’s foundations. Torches lit the way. It got cooler and damper as they descended.

Someone had left the light on, O’Neill thought vaguely as they passed yet another set of torches burning brightly. Apparently, someone had been planning on coming down here whatever the outcome was tonight.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Lady Morgana pushed open a door. They passed several rooms, clearly dungeons, but from the looks of them, infrequently used. Those cells were not their destination—at least for now she had other things on her mind, other plans. He sighed slightly, relieved that he wouldn’t be spending time in one of those cells, but none too happy about the current situation.

Turlough was holding his arms so tightly that the circulation was starting to leave his hands. The floors down here were dirt covered, peppered with pebbles and larger stones and his bare feet were taking a beating. Apparently, not too many people came down this way.

She strode to the end of the corridor, opening the door at the end. Instead of being lit by torches or candles, she pressed something just to the inside of the door and the lights came up—modern lights in what could be considered a Goa’uld inspired decorator’s nightmare. It didn’t take a scientist or an archeologist to figure this one out. This did not belong here. His eyes widened in surprise. He tried struggling again, but Turlough’s grip hadn’t loosened. It wasn’t time to start panicking—at least not yet. But this didn’t look good.

"Sit, Colonel," she said indicating a single wooden armless chair in the middle of the room. He didn’t have a choice in the matter. Turlough sat him down hard, releasing his grip on his arms. O’Neill thought better of fighting right now, especially with Ugly standing guard at the door. He was just about the biggest thug he had ever seen. Besides his circulation was just coming back and it was giving him a bad case of pins and needles. He rubbed his hands together carefully, trying to hasten their recovery. Once some of the circulation was restored, he rubbed a hand lightly across his jaw, wincing when he encountered a tender spot. He’d have a nice bruise in the morning that was for sure. His searching fingers moved to the back of his head. The matching bruise there wasn’t feeling so hot either. He withdrew his hand, looking at his fingers. No blood. That was a good thing.

Meanwhile, Lady Morgana rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a pair of trousers similar to those worn by all the men in the village, and some wool socks. She threw the items at O’Neill, but they ended up on the floor at his feet. "Put these on. I do not want you succumbing to the elements. We are just getting started."

O’Neill obeyed slowly, but bent down a little too quickly. He got lightheaded and almost sprawled on the floor. Turlough’s hand was the only thing that stopped him from toppling over. He dressed carefully, mindful of his newly acquired bruises. Once he was dressed, he sat back in the straight-backed chair, waiting. His eyes widened when he saw what was in her hands.

"Now wait a minute," he said, starting to look a little panicked. "Just what do you think you’re doing with that? You can’t think you’re going to put that on me!" She held a metal collar in her hands and was advancing on him. Attached to the collar was a short metal chain.

Instead of answering him she ordered the guards to hold him. After great deal of swearing and struggling on the part of O’Neill, the collar was placed around his neck. It closed with a hiss, sealing itself. You could not tell where it ended or began. It was as if it was one piece of metal.

Turlough still held him firmly and for good reason; there was murder in his eyes.

"How dare you!" O’Neill said through clenched teeth. "How dare you think you can treat human beings as animals. You’re just as bad as the Goa’uld—even worse. You try to pass yourself off as a human being. At least with the Goa’ulds, you know where you stand." His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. If only he could get loose…

"Don’t be so dramatic, O’Neill. This hostage chain will not hurt you. It will just teach you obedience." She walked around the room slowly, causing O’Neill to follow her with his eyes. With Turlough’s hands firmly planted on his shoulders, he wasn’t going anywhere else.

"You see, O’Neill, this is one of the many tools we will use to convince you to help us. You see, it could be much worse. When we overthrew the Goa’uld on this planet a millennium ago, they were forced to leave their technology behind. We are not the primitive people you thought we were. We used their technology, our metals, our special gifts, and our methods to improve on what they left behind. If you are lucky, you will never need to experience some of the more inventive methods we have of obtaining your obedience."

O’Neill was furious, but held his tongue. She stopped in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. If looks could kill, she would be dead—several times over. No such luck, however.

She clicked her nails on the metal collar. "This device cannot be removed by the wearer, only by the one who placed it around your neck. This will teach you humility and it will teach you your place in our society." She paused for a moment, letting the statement sink in. Apparently, she wanted to make sure she had his undivided attention.

"Until you agree to help us, you will be considered lower than our enemy. To us, you are worthless and you will be treated as such. You have no value in our society. Everyone here contributes something to our village and it is because of that contribution that each person continues living. You, on the other hand, are only living due to my mercy. And it is only due to my mercy that you will continue living. I have every right to kill you where you sit."

"So, what’s stopping you?" he growled.

She paused, her eyes narrowing. "This night, I have asked myself that question many times. I believe you will be very useful to me once I can convince you that it is in your best interests to aid us."

"Well, that will never happen."

She leaned in close, an evil smile on her lips. "Never say never, Jack O’Neill. I have broken bigger men than you, and I’ve done it many times. I’ve actually already begun. Tonight, I take your dignity from you. I have already taken your team. There is nothing left but your misplaced loyalties, your almighty holier-than-thou attitude, and your life." She stood, turning her back to him.

"My team? What do you mean? What did you do to my team?" He tried struggling, but the goons weren’t letting up.

She walked to the door, turning to address the guards. "Place him in the first cell and secure him there. We’ll continue this discussion in the morning. I’m tired of this conversation, his endless dribble."

They acknowledged her order, echoing "Yes, my Lady" as she retreated down the hall.

O’Neill’s angered cries followed her out. "What the hell did you do to my team? What did you do to my team?" The last call ended in a strangled cry. His mind was whirling. What had she done? How? Why? He had no answers, only questions.

Once she was gone, they roughly dragged him to his feet and led him down the hall, switching off the light and closing the door behind them.

At least they know how to clean up after themselves, he thought, laughing to himself. He must be going crazy. This was so not happening.

As ordered, they brought him to the first cell, leading him to the back wall. Pushing him to his knees, Turlough secured the end of the chain to the wall. They left without a word, leaving the door open. It wasn’t as if he could reach it, some ten or more feet away, especially since his chain was barely two feet long. He tried pulling at it but managed only to irritate his neck. At this point, choking himself was not an option.

He contemplated his situation and realized that they couldn’t have left him in a more uncomfortable position. Not only was it impossible for him to stand, he couldn’t sit either. He had to spend the night on his knees. This was not going to be fun, especially since his knees were already protesting and he had only been here a few moments.

He carefully checked himself over, making sure he wasn’t in worse condition than he felt. He probed carefully around his ribs, feeling them give a little more than they should have. Pains raced up his side and he gasped, seeing stars. Just about what he had expected, but that didn’t make him feel any better. They were definitely cracked, perhaps even a little displaced, but it didn’t feel like they had punctured anything. At least that was a good thing.

He tried to settle himself in the best he could, getting as comfortable as possible. Who knew when he would get the chance to sleep again, he thought. He had to take every opportunity to save his strength—something, he noted absently, he didn’t have a lot of lately. Soon enough, with his back against the cold, damp rock wall, his head drooped forward, and he was asleep.

 


	3. Chapter Three

General Hammond was fooling himself in thinking that he was actually getting any work done. The computer screen before him hadn’t changed in the last hour. While he had come into his office with every intention of working, once he sat down the events of the day washed over him.

It had started off badly with a dead car battery and had concluded with an amnesiac team and the loss of his second-in-command. At this point, he wasn’t sure it could get much worse.

Or could it?

Why this had to happen to them was something altogether beyond him. Hadn’t they had enough hardship in their lives? Teal’c, considered a traitor by his own people, a lone alien among humans, fighting a war he might not win. Because of him, his family was a target, ostracized from the very society that had once cherished and nurtured them.

For Major Carter, this program was a huge coup, but even then, there had been hardship. Taken as a host by a "friendly," Jolinar, fighting countless battles, solving riddles when the lives of everyone on the planet relied on her making the correct decision. She had given up family and a normal life when she first got involved and now even her father was a stranger to her at times as a host to Selmac.

Dr. Daniel Jackson, rescued from a life of ridicule in the archaeological community and thrust headfirst into the military machine, found that he had the most to lose—his wife and his brother-in-law to the enemy.

For Jack O’Neill, this was just one more assignment tacked onto an already lengthy military career—none of which had been easy. He didn’t even want to imagine some of the horrors Jack O’Neill had faced head-on over the years to make him the man he was under General West’s command during the first Abydos mission. Hadn’t he suffered enough at the hands of the Iraqis? Hadn’t he suffered enough while he held his dying son in his arms, watching the very lifeblood flow from the only child he had?

Lost in his thoughts, Hammond barely registered someone entering the briefing room. From past experience, he could tell it wasn’t Teal’c—that boy was worse than Colonel O’Neill when it came to sneaking up on people. It still amazed him that a man that large could move almost without making a sound.

It couldn’t be Dr. Jackson, unless he had drastically changed his personality—although under a potentially harmful alien influence, anything was possible. Colonel O’Neill was generally the first one at a briefing but this time around it wouldn’t be so. By default, that left Major Carter.

From his vantage point in his office, Hammond heard Major Carter enter the empty briefing room on level 28. He could picture her movements in his mind’s eye—her blue eyes squinting as she looked around the room in confusion, scrutinizing her watch for the time, and rechecking the room. He heard papers hit a solid surface and surmised that she had dropped her notes and pen at her usual spot at the briefing room table. Her footfalls moved toward the sideboard and Hammond vaguely realized that he remembered smelling coffee brewing and offered silent thanks to the airman with the forethought to put some coffee on for the briefing. This might turn into a long session and they might need the extra caffeine. He could picture Carter pouring herself a cup and mixing in a little cream and sugar like she usually did.

It was time to make his appearance, he thought, rising from his desk just as he heard Teal’c’s voice.

"Greetings, Samantha Carter. Where are Daniel Jackson and General Hammond?"

"I’m here, son," Hammond said walking into the briefing room from his office. His eyes narrowed when he realized Dr. Jackson was missing—again. He scowled slightly as he turned his attention to Carter. "Major Carter, where is Dr. Jackson?"

Carter walked over to the table, placing her hand on the back of her chair. "I’m not sure, sir. I left Daniel in the commissary. He was probably going to his office. He said he wanted to start his report. Should I get him?" She started to put her coffee down on the table when Hammond’s voice stopped her.

"No need, Major. I’ll have someone find him. There’s no reason for you to go traipsing off after him every time he gets lost on base." He strode over to the sideboard, picked up the phone, dialed an extension, and a familiar voice answered. "Dr. Fraiser, please stop by Dr. Jackson’s office on the way down and bring him along." At her confirmation, he hung up and went back to the table. He looked at Teal’c and Carter, standing hesitantly, waiting for him.

"Have a seat, people. Dr. Fraiser is joining us for this briefing so we’ll begin when she arrives…hopefully with Dr. Jackson."

Silence descended upon the room. Carter paged through her files, reading and re-reading what Hammond was positive she already knew by heart. Teal’c merely watched and waited.

It was an uncomfortable silence.

Usually, this was one of the more interesting teams to debrief. Experts in first contact situations, they nearly always had something exciting to report—from Dr. Jackson’s endless chatter about the discovery of ancient ruins to Carter’s barely contained excitement when she went off on one of her scientific tangents about some kind of advanced alien technology they had found. Teal’c’s rare but profound insights offered a unique counterpoint to the enthusiasm generated by the two scientists.

Colonel O’Neill, though, always managed to stay above the fray. He knew when to press for more concrete facts. He knew how to change the direction of the briefing without losing the valuable energy and passion of his two scientists. While on the other hand, he always knew when it was time to curb their enthusiasm and focus on the job at hand. He also recognized the appropriate time to let their excitement bring them to even greater discoveries. Instinctively he knew just what to do. No matter how many times Hammond saw it happen, he was always amazed by O’Neill’s leadership of such a diverse team.

General Hammond found himself drawn to this team, watching them together, working as a well-oiled machine. Many times he just observed, acutely aware of his second-in-command. O’Neill’s off-the-cuff sarcastic remarks were just his defense mechanism—finely tuned as it was—to turn even the most astute away. He was a great deal smarter than he appeared to be—much smarter than even his team realized. Even when he didn’t look like he was listening, Hammond knew O’Neill heard every word—even those unuttered. His cool expression and calm demeanor were just a front, Hammond knew. He could tell after all these years. O’Neill lived for this assignment. He loved the adventure, the excitement of discovery, and the challenges of first contact. He thrived on it. His eyes gave it away. Windows to the soul they have been called by many, and in this case, Hammond had to agree.

From the very beginning, Hammond had been fascinated with this unlikely team. Two scientists and two military men, a fierce loyalty binding them together. A strange family. Three humans and an alien, all tied together because of circumstance, but yet they fit perfectly together, melded into a single, solid unit. On some assignments Hammond knew it was only their fierce loyalty and determination that got them through.

But now, he knew just by looking at them that something was wrong, something was off. Even though they thought they were fine, in reality a huge piece was missing. And the worst thing about it was that they didn’t even know it was gone.

The entrance of Dr. Fraiser with a slightly disheveled Dr. Jackson in tow interrupted his musings, bringing him back to the present. He straightened unconsciously in his chair and motioned for Fraiser and Jackson to take their seats.

"Doctors, I’m glad you could join us." He let Jackson and Fraiser settle in at the briefing room table before he continued. Fraiser looked worried—never a good sign, especially when it came to medical matters—so he decided to start with her. "Dr. Fraiser, what do you have to report?"

"Unfortunately, sir, not much more than before." She paused, paging through the array of folders and papers spread in front of her. "According to the test results, SG1 is in perfect health. I couldn’t find any abnormalities in any of their lab results and that’s gotten me a bit worried." She glanced up, catching Hammond’s eye. "I was hoping I would be able to pin this on something specific, something tangible, whether it was an alien germ or a chemical."

Carter leaned forward on her elbows, resting her weight on the table. "So Janet, what exactly are you saying?" she asked, a perplexed expression on her face.

"I’m saying that whatever memory problems you’re having do not seem to have a physical or chemical cause—at least not that I can find." Fraiser shrugged apologetically. "I’m going to continue running some additional tests. Maybe I missed something. I wish I could tell you something more positive."

Jackson looked worried, his forehead deeply creased. He had removed his glasses during Fraiser’s explanation, rubbing the heels of his hands into his already reddened eyes. Jackson sighed deeply before speaking. "But then, the only other possibility would be that someone was messing around in our heads and I just don’t see that happening. These people were primitive but they were friendly and welcoming. They had no advanced technology. And anyway, why would they have any reason to alter our memories?"

"I don’t know, but I’d like permission to run some more tests. General, I’d like some more time to observe SG1. We haven’t tried hypnosis. Maybe that will help."

Hammond nodded sharply. "Permission granted, Doctor. Do what you need to do to get to the bottom of this. Take as much time as you require."

Carter rubbed her face wearily. Jackson stared at Hammond, his eyes full of dread and dismay. Teal’c merely raised an eyebrow. Hammond knew they had been hoping for some kind of resolution, some good news, answers of some kind—anything but what Dr. Fraiser had reported. SG1 knew they weren’t going home anytime soon.

"Anything to add, Doctor?" Hammond asked.

"No, sir." Fraiser said, shaking her head in apology.

"Then you’re dismissed. I appreciate the update." He smiled at her, thanking her for her hard work in word and deed, but the smile never reached his eyes. How could it? How could he be happy about news such as this? His premier field team was grounded for an unknown length of time because of something his chief medical officer couldn’t identify and his second-in-command was missing in action, left behind on an alien planet halfway across the universe. Ugh. You couldn’t get much worse if you tried really hard.

"Yes, sir. Thank you." She rose and quickly walked out of the room, a pensive expression on her face. Hammond could tell that her mind was already on other things even before she left the room.

Once Fraiser was gone, Hammond waited a beat before he continued. "We should probably get on with this debrief. Major, why don’t you start?"

Carter launched off on her scientific tangent, explaining the various discoveries she had already made, just in the few moments she had had this evening. Some of the rock samples they’d brought back had traces of naqahda in them but it was also mixed with some other element she hadn’t been able to identify…yet. With enough time and study, she was positive she would be able to find out what it was and exactly what it did. At a cursory glance, it seemed to provide some kind of enhancement to the naquada, at least on the surface, but she couldn’t understand why. She wasn’t even sure if it was a metal or if it was something else entirely. She was already planning some tests to figure out just what the relationship was between the two. She continued for some time, until Hammond held his hand up.

"Major, I think you’ve convinced me this planet has value, at least for mining. How about we give Dr. Jackson a little time to enlighten us about the people?"

She looked a little stunned that he had cut her off so abruptly, but acquiesced immediately. She turned to Daniel, who was already gearing up.

"General Hammond, I believe a closer examination of this culture will prove to be beneficial, not only for us, but also for them." He leaned forward on his elbows, as if the extra weight would emphasize his point. "Sir, these people fought off the Goa’uld hundreds of years ago and the Goa’uld have not returned. That should tell you something about them. I believe that they could make a valuable ally for us in the fight against the Goa’uld."

"I agree with Daniel Jackson," Teal’c said, quietly but firmly. "These people seem to be fearsome warriors, willing to fight for their freedom and their beliefs."

Jackson looked at Teal’c, surprise etched into his face at Teal’c’s outburst but his surprise quickly turned to gratification. He gestured to Teal’c. "General, with that kind of endorsement, how can you argue with us?"

"Dr. Jackson, I’m not arguing with you in the first place. This planet, as far as I can tell, might prove to be a valuable resource to us in our fight against the Goa’uld, both in its people and in its materials. I am merely concerned with the events that took place over the past two days while you were on this mission. In addition, I’m also concerned about your state of mind."

"Sir, no disrespect intended, but Dr. Fraiser can’t find anything wrong with us and we all feel fine. Why do you insist that there’s something wrong with us?" Carter asked, exasperation tinting her words.

"Because, Major," said Hammond, as he rose and pointed to the Stargate below. "I watched the four members of my very best field team walk through that Stargate a day ago and only three returned. I have a problem with that." He paused, trying to get his temper under control. He was tired and frustrated more than angry, he knew, but right now anger was all he had—that and a lot of unanswered questions.

He looked around at the tired faces surrounding the briefing room table. "Let’s adjourn this discussion now. It’s late and I know you’ve all had a rough day. We’ll reconvene this briefing two days from now. Maybe by then we’ll have something more to add. You are all confined to the base until further notice. No exceptions. Dismissed." He watched SG1 quickly gather their belongings and leave. They weren’t even talking amongst themselves, Hammond realized, and sighed softly to himself. Normally, SG1 was a very talkative group and the lack of idle banter that surfaced following the briefing worried Hammond more than he wanted to admit. That was not a good sign.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel was in his lab, buried in his books, when Carter found him later that same night. The base was quiet and she was restless. Even though it was nearly 0100, she knew Daniel would still be awake. He was reliable like that. He was consistent. Gotta love consistency.

But when she stepped closer, she realized Daniel wasn’t studying. His glasses were lying next to him on the desk. His head was resting on his crossed arms and he was fast asleep, snoring softly. Carter hated waking him but she knew he would forgive her and thank her in the morning—especially when he didn’t wake up with an uncomfortable crick in his neck. She crossed the room quietly, gently shaking his shoulder and calling his name.

"Daniel…Daniel, wake up. You should be in bed."

He woke suddenly, gasping. An expression of panic and fear crossed his face quickly before recognition set in.

"Sam! Oh gosh, I’m sorry. What time is it?" He rubbed his eyes, squinting across the room, trying unsuccessfully to read the clock on the wall.

"It’s just after midnight. Did you have a bad dream or something?" she asked, concerned. Normally, Daniel wasn’t so jumpy.

"No…I don’t know," he said shaking his head. "I just had a weird feeling, but it’s passing now. Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you." He looked at her again, his forehead furrowed. "What are you doing down here anyway? It’s late."

Carter shrugged her shoulders. "I was nearly doing the same thing in my lab, but I don’t think I can sleep. For some reason, I’m restless tonight. Maybe it’s because I know I can’t go home to my own bed. So I came to see what you were doing. Teal’c was doing his kel-no-reem and I didn’t want to bother him."

"So, I was your second choice?" Jackson teased. He yawned wide, his eyes watering.

"No, silly," she said smiling and swatting his arm playfully. "You know better than that. It’s just that Teal’c’s room is on the way here. It never hurts to check." It almost felt like old times. Why she thought that just now, she didn’t know, but let it pass.

"I know," he said, smiling. "So, what were you working on before you came down here to watch me sleep?"

"I was reading some of the preliminary test results from some of the plants we brought back. The botanists have been having a field day. They think there are some interesting properties they might be able to use here—even one that might help prevent Alzheimer’s, especially the latter stages. Even this early on it looks promising."

"That sounds great, Sam. Really great." His words were encouraging, but his tone was thoughtful. He paused, studying his hands intently. "Sam, are you worried?"

"Worried?"

"Are you worried that they might be right?"

She looked him directly in the eyes, holding his gaze. "I’m deathly afraid that they might be right."

*~*~*~*~*~*

The next day and a half passed uneventfully for SG1. Jackson and Carter immersed themselves in their research: Jackson studying various texts he had found about the Celts while Carter split her time between her rock samples and studying the ribbon device. The bones themselves were being dated to give them an estimate of time—when the Gou’ald had been driven from Meath and the Ildanach.

They were interrupted several times when Dr. Fraiser requested their presence in the infirmary for more tests, drawing additional blood samples each time. By the last one, Jackson was referring to her as the Countess Dracula. She laughed with him, but knew how concerned he was. He tried to hide it, but she knew he was worried. His eyes were haunted—and this time not from the bones and inscriptions he studied.

By the time General Hammond called the next briefing, both Carter and Daniel thought they had gathered enough evidence to convince anyone—even the Joint Chiefs if need be—of the importance of continuing relations with Lord Kentigern and the people of Meath.

Daniel, though, was pushing for immediate action, which General Hammond was not fully convinced was necessary.

"But General," Jackson argued, passionate in his convictions, "this is the opportunity of a lifetime. You heard what Sam said. There’s no threat from the Goa’uld. The bones found with the ribbon device are hundreds of years old, perhaps thousands. If this civilization was able to defeat the Goa’uld that long ago and they are still free of Goa’uld control to this day, we need to discover what they know. If we wait, they may not think we are serious about exploring diplomatic relations with them."

"But Dr. Jackson, you said in your report that Lord Kentigern was having enough trouble with local disputes between neighboring villages. How do you expect him to be in any position to negotiate trade treaties with us when he can’t protect his own borders?" Hammond argued, providing a valid counterpoint.

"Counties actually, General. They seem to have taken the names of several of the ancient Celtic counties—Meath was part of the Brega Kingdom during the 9th century. It seems like Meath is at odds with Glyn Cuch which literally means frown valley." A grimace passed over Jackson’s face, but he shook it off. Taking a breath, he continued. "I don’t know why that’s so important, but anyway…compared to some of the skirmishes they’ve had over the years, this one is minor, more annoying than anything. As for Meath, although it is a few hours hike from the Stargate, it is the controlling county. The Stargate is within the borders of Meath and those borders are regularly patrolled."

"So what do you recommend, Dr. Jackson?" Hammond asked knowing exactly what the answer would be.

"I want to go back and start the diplomatic process, perhaps bringing something with us as proof of our good intentions. All they have is our word that we will return and that we are trustworthy. I’d like to do something to strengthen their trust in us. It will probably aid in negotiations further on down the road."

"What do you plan on giving them, Dr. Jackson?"

Jackson paused, frowning slightly. His hands moved nervously, twirling and playing with the pen in his hand—much like a certain missing Colonel. "See, that’s where the problem comes in. I don’t know. I can’t seem to find anything about this type of negotiation anywhere in any of the ancient textbooks I have. The Celtic people didn’t exactly leave a written record of all their day-to-day activities. They had an oral tradition and there’s not much left except what you find in myths and legends." He paused, hesitating to offer the only suggestion that came to mind. "They might appreciate the addition of a bride, but I don’t see that as something we can really provide."

Hammond was not amused. "No, Dr. Jackson. Anything else?"

Carter piped up, getting Jackson out of the so-called hot seat. "Perhaps a token of some type for the Lord and Lady? New clothing or some kind of jewelry? They are a relatively self sufficient people."

"Very well. When the time comes, we will send a diplomatic team through to set up a time to return to speak with Lord Kentigern. Dr. Jackson, if you can find something by then, you can send it through with the team." General Hammond began to rise, but Jackson’s voice stopped him mid-stand.

"When the time comes? General, we need to do this now, not later, and I think SG1 should go. We’ve been there before and we know the people. They’ll be more comfortable with us."

Hammond’s voice was firm. "Absolutely not. You are in no shape to go topside, let alone half-way across the galaxy."

"But General, sir. I have to go. At least send me along with another team. At least then there will be a friendly face. We don’t have to be long, a few hours at most. Egan said they were patrolling the area regularly now that the gate was uncovered. Please, General…it’s just something I have to do."

"Dr. Jackson, under no circumstances are you going through the Stargate. Do you understand me?" Hammond said strongly. He was frustrated and tired and letting it show in his voice.

When he got a meek nod from Jackson, he continued. "First thing tomorrow morning, I am sending SG5 through to evaluate what’s going on over there. Colonel Yearwood has his orders. His mission will be a simple recon. If possible, he will also try to locate and retrieve Colonel O’Neill. Diplomatic relations will have to wait until we can confirm what’s going on over there. We’re not about ready to open up diplomatic relations with someone who might be holding one of my officers hostage. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," said Carter, looking intently at Jackson. He got the message and kept his mouth shut.

"Very well. Once we get the reports from SG5 tomorrow, we will decide what else we need to do. Dismissed."

*~*~*~*~*~*

When 0700 rolled around the next morning, General Hammond found Jackson, Carter, and Teal’c loitering in the control room. He wasn’t surprised, but he just didn’t need them underfoot.

"SG1 what are you doing down here this morning?" he asked his tone strong, plainly stressing his displeasure at their presence.

"Just here for the show, General," Jackson said, sounding suspiciously like SG1’s missing CO. If only they realized how much they were sounding and acting like O’Neill…Hammond sighed. He knew that Jackson had an ulterior motive and, sure enough, Jackson spoke up again, after a beat or two of silence. "General, you should be sending a diplomatic team through. We should go through and contact them."

"Dr. Jackson, I thought we settled this last night." He wasn’t in the mood for Jackson’s unreserved determination this morning. Because his second in command was missing, he had a mound of paperwork on his desk and he wasn’t looking forward to it. It was amazing. No matter how much Colonel O’Neill groused about doing paperwork, he was very efficient—too efficient it seemed. Whoever knew the endless supply of paper it required to just keep the lights on and the base running. Besides, he was worried—very worried—and he didn’t want to admit it. "Under no circumstances is SG1 permitted to leave the base—either through the front door or through the gate. If you insist on continuing this conversation, I will have you in the lockup fast enough to make your head spin. Am I understood?"

"But General…"

"Yes, General, Daniel understands." Carter said, cutting him off. From the tone of her voice, Hammond was sure she had already had this conversation—or something close to it—before. Knowing Carter, she had tried to convince Dr. Jackson of the futility of arguing earlier this morning, but it hadn’t worked so she’d agreed to tag along for moral support.

"Very well." He eyed Jackson again before leaning to toggle the microphone to the on position. "SG5, are you ready to depart?"

"Yes, sir. SG5 is prepared," said Colonel Yearwood, the 6’2" sandy-haired team leader of SG5, as his team assembled in the embarkation room.

"Sergeant, dial it up," Hammond ordered.

"Aye, sir." Soon enough, the sound of the gate spinning and the chevrons locking in place filled the cavernous room. "Chevron one, engaged…chevron two, engaged…"

No matter how many times he heard the sound of the inner track of the gate spinning, Hammond knew he would never get tired of it. It was the sound of freedom, of exploration, of unending possibilities. Granted, it also was a doorway through which whoever and whatever could come through—and usually did—but the good far outweighed the bad. He was convinced of it. He looked down at Colonel Yearwood and SG5. They were good men. They’d be able to find something, He was sure of it.

"Chevron seven, locked." The wormhole whooshed out before settling back down. Its blue and white light reflected strangely off the concrete and the metal, causing bizarre light and shadows to play across everyone’s face. SG5 moved out quickly, Colonel Yearwood pausing just before entering the event horizon. He turned and offered SG1 and General Hammond a salute. "We’ll find him, sir, and we’ll bring him home."

"Thank you, Colonel." Hammond toggled the microphone off as Yearwood stepped through. A beat later, the gate shut down, leaving the control room under the harsh glare of the artificial lighting.

Hammond broke the uncomfortable silence that descended.

"Okay people, let’s get back to work."

A series of "Yes, sirs" followed him back up the stairs to his office and the mound of paperwork demanding his immediate attention.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Colonel Yearwood stepped through the gate and noticed that his team had taken up defensive positions on either side of the DHD, surveying the area, watching for any sign of life. They were a good team. Granted, they didn’t have the track record that SG1 had, but generally they also managed to stay out of trouble. It always amazed him how often he would hear stories of how SG1 had engaged the Goa’uld or managed to piss off the natives on a planet far, far away. They had a knack for things like that. He glanced around, checking the immediate vicinity of the gate. It looked clear to him. The day was bright and sunny; visibility was high, permitting an unobstructed view of the valley below.

"Major Bigelow, what’s our status?"

"Nothing in the immediate vicinity, sir," the stocky brunette said, glancing back at him. "What are your orders?"

"Let’s make our way to Meath and see what’s going on." Yearwood stepped forward and with a wave of his hand, indicated the rest of his team—Captains Duncan Stewart and James Thomson—could relax. It was a gorgeous sunny day that reminded Yearwood of early autumn in the Northeast US. Not too hot, but comfortably warm. Unfortunately, they weren’t here for the weather and the scenery. It was time to work. "So Bigelow, which way to the village?"

"According to Major Carter’s report, there should be a path that leads to the village near the ruins." He walked cautiously over the rock-filled area, careful not to trip over anything. Yearwood and the rest of the team followed closely behind. A few moments later a path—or some loose definition of a path—was seen leading off into the forest.

Bigelow turned back to him. "Colonel, this looks like the start of the path Major Carter spoke about."

Yearwood was keeping his eyes on the area around them. He thought there would be more here. Usually the communities sprang up around the gate, but here, all that was left near the gate were piles of rocks and rubble. "I thought Dr. Jackson said that there were guards patrolling the area. I have yet to see anyone."

"Maybe they’re patrolling somewhere else," Bigelow suggested without humor. Yearwood could tell that Bigelow was nervous. He couldn’t blame him, really. When SG1 lost its CO, it had come as a shock to everyone on base. And now, he thought, here we are, trying to figure out what happened. He had a bad feeling about this but he kept it to himself. Best not too worry anyone…yet.

Nearly an hour into their journey, Yearwood decided to pause for a break near a small clearing several steps from a small brook. "Let’s take five everyone, we still have a hike ahead of us." He was getting ready to settle himself down against a tree, when Bigelow spotted someone coming along the path.

"Sir, we have company," he said pointing.

Yearwood turned quickly, his eyes following along the line Bigelow indicated. He picked out faint movement farther up the path and was surprised that anyone could have seen it. "Good catch. Everyone, keep your heads about you." Yearwood stood, hefting his P90, carefully leveling it at the approaching figure. Soon enough three figures approached, dressed in long cloaks. They walked directly to where SG5 was standing as if they knew exactly where they would be.

One tall, well-built man stepped forward, bowing low and introduced himself. "Strangers, please be welcome. I am called Egan and these are my companions, Hywel and Calder." He indicated each in turn. "Have you come through the stone circle?"

"Egan, it is a pleasure to meet you. Daniel Jackson has spoken of you," Yearwood said, cautiously. He still gripped his weapon, but felt a little more comfortable meeting someone SG1 had had contact with. At least something they remembered was true.

"You are friends of Daniel Jackson? Is he among you?" Egan asked, looking around as if Daniel Jackson would appear out of thin air.

"Yes, we are friends of Dr. Jackson’s, but he is not with us today. He had other duties. We came looking for someone else." Yearwood paused, trying to figure out the best way to approach the question. He wasn’t one for subtlety, so he just dived in, feet first, so to speak. "Egan, do you remember Colonel O’Neill? He was with Daniel Jackson when they arrived a few days ago."

"Yes, of course. My Lord Kentigern spoke with him at length during our feast. Why is it you look for him here?"

Yearwood was confused. "You mean he left with the others, with Dr. Jackson and Major Carter?"

Egan paused for a moment, considering his answer. "Perhaps it would be best for you to speak with Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. They will be able to answer your questions. Would you care to follow us back to the village? I will send Calder on ahead to make sure we are prepared for your arrival." He gestured to Calder and, seconds later, he was off running back down the path the way he had come. "Do not worry, this path is safe and he is young. The run will do him good. My Lords, please follow us."

Without the opportunity to protest, SG5 found itself obediently following Egan to the village like lemmings. As long as there wasn’t a cliff, Yearwood thought, they should be fine.

"Egan," Yearwood started, "we cannot stay long. We are just trying to find Colonel O’Neill."

"I understand, my Lord, but I am sorry. You must speak with Lord Kentigern. I cannot help you." Egan looked distressed, while his companion kept silent and impassive.

"Very well," Yearwood said, adjusting his pack slightly on his back. It looked like they didn’t have much choice in the matter. Minutes later, the clearing was still once again, as if no one had been there.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack O’Neill woke suddenly, freezing cold water splashing on his face. He nearly strangled himself, jerking his head up and away from the offending liquid. A moment later, self-preservation set in and he tried to collect the remaining droplets of water on his face in his mouth with his tongue. The small taste of water only served to worsen his thirst.

Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the grinning countenance of Lady Morgana. Turlough still held the bucket in his hand.

"Well, my pet is awake," she said, nearly purring. Someone had a good night’s sleep, he thought sarcastically, shifting on his aching knees, trying to get into a more comfortable position. His fitful sleep throughout the night had proven to be anything but restful. He’d be grateful to sleep in the dirt at this point—anything to get the weight off his knees.

"Yeah, and what’s it to you?" Cold showers didn’t tend to make him a happy camper in the morning. Besides, he wasn’t much of a morning person—especially without his coffee.

She glared at him, her eyes narrowing, a frown finding its way to her face. "Apparently, my pet has not learned anything. Perhaps a lesson is needed." She clapped her hands and Turlough’s buddy from last night entered with a tray of food and water in his hands. O’Neill tried not to show the longing on his face, but he knew that she perceived exactly what was going through his mind. His hands clenched at his side as he tried to restrain himself from lunging at the tray, knowing that he wouldn’t get far, especially since he was still collared and chained to the wall.

"Place it on the floor," she said, indicating a spot on the ground, just out of his reach. O’Neill’s eyes never left the tray as it was placed in the designated spot. He licked his lips hungrily, his stomach already churning. "Perhaps later today, he will have earned the privilege of having something to eat and drink."

He looked up at her suddenly, all but tearing his eyes away from the sight of food before him, a questioning look on his face. Earned? How was he supposed to earn that, he wondered?

"Now, my pet, what can you tell me about the great stone circle?" Morgana asked.

What? Even though he didn’t say anything, his face reflected his unsaid thought.

"What is the address of your home world?"

He shook his head firmly, shrugging his shoulders, his eyes never leaving the tray. "I don’t know." It was a bald faced lie, but he had to start somewhere. He shifted his weight again, trying to ease the pain in one of his knees. He was getting too old for this.

"Very well, my pet. Shall we go for a walk?" She indicated for Turlough to release the chain from the wall. He did so, pulling O’Neill roughly to his feet. His knees protested violently, nearly causing him to fall flat on his face. The pain in his ribs made him groan. He had almost forgotten about them. God, they hurt, but then, what part of him didn’t hurt? He considered the question for a moment, realizing that his hair didn’t hurt. That was a good sign.

Turlough’s rough handling brought him back to his senses quickly, as Turlough bound his hands tightly in front of him with a length of leather. Turlough’s buddy was also returning to the room with another length of chain in his hand, attached to a metal cuff. O’Neill hadn’t even noticed him leaving in the first place. He shook his head, trying to clear it. His gaze, however, wandered back down to the tray of food near his feet. If he could only lean down…

Of course, he had no such luck. Lady Morgana took the chain from the guard’s hand and attached the length to the chain that hung from his collar. The cuff she attached to her own wrist. He was now leashed to her. A rising fury swelled, but he bit it back. It seemed like he was getting out of this dark and dreary castle. Outside, he would stand a better chance of escape.

"Now, my pet, let us go for a walk and I shall show you my kingdom." She pulled the chain savagely, causing O’Neill to stumble. His sock clad feet caught up with him, and although his knees were protesting violently, he followed with Turlough on his heels. With him along for the ride, escape seemed even farther from a possibility.

They walked upstairs and through the narrow corridor leading to the main hallways of the castle. He tried to remember each and every turn. He could never tell when it might come in handy. They stopped briefly before they stepped out of doors, Lady Morgana collecting a midnight blue cloak from Nerys.

O’Neill tried to catch Nerys’s eye and, when he did, was surprised to see the hatred there. This woman, who only days before had served him and treated him with respect, now loathed the very sight of him. And what a sight you are, O’Neill’s mind countered. You haven’t bathed or shaved in days and now a woman with delusions of grandeur is dragging you around like an animal.

As they toured the village, her kingdom, with Turlough watching him like a hawk, he discovered Nerys was not the only one who now treated him with contempt. Children savagely kicked him before their parents could pull them away. Others spat at him as they passed. At one point, a rotting vegetable hit him on the side of his face, sliding down his arm to drop on the ground. He wiped the foul smelling juice from his face the best he could with his bound hands.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his hushed voice harsh.

"Because I can."

"But why…?" he asked, at a loss of words. His rage boiled, just below the surface. How did you explain this?

"They know all about your refusal to aid us. As the days progress, it will just get worse. They would rather see you dead. As I said last night, it is only though my mercy that you live."

"Then kill me. It’s better than this," he growled.

"That is the point. Killing you is too easy. You need to feel our pain, our displeasure."

A young adolescent ran quickly through the crowds toward them. O’Neill guessed he was probably around fourteen years old. The young messenger bowed to Lady Morgana and spoke when she indicated it was appropriate.

"My Lady Morgana, another group of strangers has come through the stone circle and they approach the village along with Egan and Hywel. They are dressed like the strangers who came before."

Although the messenger’s eyes were properly downcast while speaking to Lady Morgana, O’Neill saw the boy’s eyes slide over to him, taking him in. An expression of disgust briefly passed over his face, but was quickly replaced by his otherwise bland exterior. Only O’Neill, who was staring at him, even noticed.

A delegation of strangers? Perhaps it was the SGC. Perhaps they were sending a rescue party for him. A flame of hope ignited within him. Maybe this nightmare would end. But why had Hammond waited so long to send someone for him? Wasn’t it plainly obvious he wasn’t there when SG1 returned? But what if he had returned? What if a clone or a robot or something had returned with them? Then, the base and his team were in danger. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear it.

He was confused and half out of his mind with hunger and thirst. He was lightheaded and he knew he wasn’t thinking straight. He was starting to fade in and out, missing bits and pieces. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was starting to weaken. If this kept up, he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

"Very well, Calder. Inform Lord Kentigern. We will speak with these strangers in the Great Hall. Inform him that I will attend him shortly."

Calder bowed and sped away toward the castle. Lady Morgana turned to O’Neill and saw him in obvious discomfort.

"We are not yet finished today. We still have to meet with these strangers and see what they have to say. Shall we?" She smiled savagely, pulling O’Neill cruelly behind her, the metal collar digging into his neck, rubbing against his already raw skin. "Perhaps when we are finished, and as long as my pet behaves, he will be permitted to eat this day."

At the mention of the very possibility of food, his head jerked up, his eyes widening—maybe food was in his future. She saw his reaction, but just pulled him along. He could do little but stumble along behind, trying valiantly to keep up.

The abuse on the way back was worse than before. This time, some parents became emboldened, even sending their children to throw things at him. At one point, he thought he felt a rock strike him. He glanced around, his rage ready to boil over looking for the culprit, but it could have been anyone. They all stood watching him, hatred burning in their eyes and etched into the lines of their faces.

Apparently, she had decided to take the long way around because O’Neill did not think it took this long to get back to the castle. It seemed like she was doing this just to piss him off. Well, if that was the case, it was working.

When they arrived at the castle, O’Neill figured he would be brought downstairs immediately, but his assumption was wrong. Nerys waited at the door for Lady Morgana.

"My Lady," she said curtseying, "the strangers have only just arrived."

"Good. Please bring them some refreshments and make sure you mix a good amount of the Mahtab in. I don’t want to have any problems later."

Nerys bowed her head. "Yes, my lady." She moved quickly to the rear of the castle, toward what O’Neill surmised were the kitchens, disappearing into the darkness. Morgana pulled O’Neill along, walking deeper into the castle. Turlough followed behind at a discreet distance. They moved quickly through the empty hallways, O’Neill losing his sense of direction more and more with each step they took.

She paused near a half-open door, listening intently. O’Neill could not make out anything, but he heard the low mumbling of voices. Someone was speaking. He took the opportunity to lean back against the wall, in an attempt to distribute some of his weight.

Nerys approached quietly a moment later, waiting patiently for Morgana to acknowledge her presence. Morgana gazed coolly at her, indicating her to report.

"My Lady, the refreshments have been placed in the Great Hall and your guests are partaking of them. Lord Kentigern is waiting for you to arrive before he begins." She bowed low, stepping back. She then hurried back to the depths of the castle.

"Turlough, please tell Lord Kentigern to begin." Her eyes found O’Neill’s. "We will be along shortly."

"Yes, my Lady," she said, speaking softly. She moved quietly through the door and was gone.

Morgana looked him over carefully, her eyes piercing. What a sight I must be, he thought, returning her gaze. He was leaning heavily on the wall, barely upright. He was filthy and looked downright repulsive. If he could have looked in a mirror he would have been shocked at the reflection that stared back at him. Dark circles under his eyes did nothing but emphasize his gaunt and pale features. She smiled at him knowingly. It was then that he realized she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew just how much this ordeal was taking from him both physically and mentally.

"My pet, can I trust you to behave yourself?"

He nodded slowly, carefully, trying not to jostle his head too much. He was dizzy and having a hard enough time staying on his feet. He knew the very act of nodding put him one step closer to where she wanted him, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t up for a fight—at least now.

"Good. You shall see just how powerful we are for a ‘primitive’ people. Come, my pet, and observe." She dragged him forward, almost causing him to lose his footing. They entered the Great Hall through the door and O’Neill realized he was standing at the back of the small dais—the same dais he had shared only days before with Lord Kentigern.

A small party of four men stood before Lord Kentigern, eating and drinking, waiting patiently for Lady Morgana to arrive. They had already polished off a tray of food and two pitchers of some type of beverage. It took a moment, but O’Neill finally recognized them as SG5, led by Colonel Nathan Yearwood.

As they stepped to the front of the dais where Lord Kentigern sat, SG5 turned, seeing the approach of Lady Morgana. Colonel Yearwood began to bow in respect, but his eyes caught sight of O’Neill trailing behind Morgana.

O’Neill could almost picture what Yearwood saw before him: a filthy man in rags, chained to Lady Morgana by a leash, his wrists bound tightly together before him. It was probably the dog tags that gave it away, he realized. Recognition took a moment, but once Yearwood realized who stood behind her, he straightened up quickly, anger stiffening every muscle. The rest of SG5 tried not to show their shocked expressions, but to O’Neill they were plainly obvious. They had not expected to find him here—especially in his current condition.

"What is the meaning of this?" Yearwood asked pointing at O’Neill, barely holding his temper. His hands trembled with anger. The rest of SG5 were gripping their P90s tightly, threatening to aim them at the two regal figures before them.

Lady Morgana had the audacity to look confused by the question. Cold determination and a steely gaze looked down at Yearwood. "How dare you speak to me in such a manner. Do they not teach you manners where you come from?" She yanked again at the chain securing O’Neill to her wrist, pulling him forward into the light. She looked at O’Neill sternly. "Kneel."

No matter how tired he was and how much he knew he needed to sit down, he couldn’t do it. His pride wouldn’t allow him. He fought back the only way he could. "No," he said quietly, pushing the word out through his cotton-dry mouth.

One more pull on the chain and O’Neill quickly found himself on his knees. He tried to get up, but didn’t have the energy. He was barely holding on as it was. Black dots danced before his eyes.

Through his bleary vision, he could tell that Colonel Yearwood was furious. He could see the rage boiling just under the surface, threatening to overtake him. He knew what Yearwood was thinking. It would have been his thoughts if the situation were reversed. A few well-placed shots and they could get out of there. Yearwood would be concerned about him, though, wondering if he would be able to make it back to the Stargate. It was quite a hike, he knew, even in good health and, right now, he was sure he looked like death warmed over. Even kneeling, he was having a hard time staying upright.

A quick glance around the room showed that big men and lots of metal surrounded them. Those big men looked menacing. Getting out of there in one piece might prove to be a challenge if they had to fight their way out. Discretion might be the better option.

Yearwood gritted his teeth, holding his temper the best he could. "They teach me manners, but they also teach me not to treat men like animals. How dare you treat him this way. Do you know who he is?"

"Of course. He is my pet, my project. How else should I treat him? If it were not for my mercy, he would be dead already. I give him his life and he is grateful for it every day he is alive."

Behind Yearwood, O’Neill heard Bigelow’s muttered remark. "Dead would be better." He couldn’t agree more.

Yearwood took a threatening step closer to the dais. Enough was enough. Before he could issue an order, Morgana’s hand flew up and those menacing men, their long swords drawn, surrounded SG5.

"Hey! Wait a minute! What do you think you’re doing?" Yearwood protested as someone ripped the weapon from his hands.

"We will not have you interfering with us," said Morgana. She gestured and each member of SG5 was held securely, their arms behind their back. O’Neill could do nothing but watch. He tried to protest, feebly lifting his hands to stop Morgana. She easily backhanded him across the face and darkness swam around him. He landed heavily on his side, his bruised ribs protesting strenuously.

Through a haze of pain, he watched Morgana remove the cuff from her wrist and place it on Turlough’s wrist. He was stuck, tied to an immovable object. O’Neill couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw a look of pity and remorse cross Turlough’s face. Since it was gone so quickly and since the world around him was spinning painfully, he couldn’t be sure.

Morgana approached Yearwood as he struggled, trying to free himself from the vice-like grip in which he was held. Morgana lightly placed her hand on his forehead and started speaking. O’Neill tried to concentrate, but couldn’t make out the words, but he was sure that if Daniel were there he’d be able to figure it out. Daniel was good at ancient alien words. O’Neill had no idea what she was saying, but from the tone, he knew it couldn’t be good. Moments later, Yearwood slumped against the guard holding him, his eyes closed, as if he were asleep.

Morgana moved down the line; each member of SG5 putting up a fight, but finding it impossible to escape her hand and her ice-like gaze.

When Morgana finished with Major Bigelow, she stepped back, swaying slightly, her hand on her head. Lord Kentigern stepped forward quickly, grabbing her elbow and guiding her to his chair.

She graciously accepted his assistance, slumping back heavily in the chair. Lines of exhaustion were etched on her face.

Kentigern indicated for one of the older men to step forward. "Yorath, return these strangers to the clearing where Egan met them. They will not remember anything that has occurred this day and they will not be back to disturb us. Let us rejoice tonight when they are returned through the great stone circle."

Yorath bowed and indicated for the four men holding SG5 to accompany him. Seconds later, O’Neill watched as SG5 was carried out, any hope for a rescue leaving with them.

O’Neill let his head drop to the floor, his eyes closed tightly, as a moan found its way out of his throat. His worst nightmare had come true. He had been abandoned. They wouldn’t be back for him. No one knew he was here. He was alone.

*~*~*~*~*~*

SG5 woke from their brief nap in the clearing. After traipsing what seemed like halfway across the planet, Yearwood had called a halt at the clearing. It was time for lunch and then back to the gate. There was nothing to see here: no natives, no village, no animals, nothing. With nothing threatening them, Yearwood felt it was safe enough for them to relax. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. They enjoyed the weather and scenery. What else were they to do on a planet where there was no sentient life? Might as well enjoy it while they could.

When 1600 rolled around, Yearwood headed back to the gate and at precisely 1700, they dialed home.

Stepping through the event horizon and onto the ramp at the SGC, Yearwood looked up at General Hammond’s hopeful expression. Unfortunately, the news wasn’t good. SG1 appeared suddenly in the gateroom, expecting something, but not this.

"Colonel, what happened? Where’s Colonel O’Neill?" Hammond asked hopeful.

"Sir, there’s no sign of life on the planet at all. We spent the entire day exploring and we didn’t meet a single person. I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no one there. There’s nothing. It’s just an uninhabited planet."

Hammond looked crestfallen. He tried not to let it show, but the defeat was in his voice and his posture. "Very well, SG5. We’ll debrief in one hour. Get yourselves down to the infirmary to get checked over."

"But…but…we were there!" Jackson exclaimed, running his hands through his short hair. "We met the people. We spoke with them. We even stayed with them. How can you say that they don’t exist? Are you blind?"

Yearwood looked at Jackson, his eyes full of pity. SG1 had finally become unglued. They were seeing things, hallucinating. Maybe the stress had finally gotten to them. "Jackson, there’s nothing there. Anything you say you saw must have been in your imagination."

*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time they returned him to the dark reaches of the castle, O’Neill was exhausted. He couldn’t understand exactly what had happened, but he knew it wasn’t good. At least now he knew what had happened to his team, though. She had made them forget. Whether it was permanent, he did not know, but it explained a great deal.

He stumbled along, barely keeping up with Lady Morgana. He couldn’t believe that she was up and about only minutes later, nearly recovered after what she had done. Several times, O’Neill found himself dragged along, the chain stretched taut. When they got back to the cell, she instructed Turlough to leave the extra chain on and secure it to the wall. At least he would be able to lie down, O’Neill thought gratefully, sinking to the floor, trying to stop his head from spinning.

Turlough released his hands from the leather bindings as well and O’Neill rubbed his red raw wrists. He remembered the tray of food they had left behind, but when he reached for it, Lady Morgana quickly stepped in and struck him, tipping him over onto his back. He lay there sprawled out, shock registering on his face: his eyes wide in surprise. Food was part of the deal. He had walked around getting stuff thrown at him and now he got to eat. He had sat there in the Great Hall and watched her steal memories from his friends and colleagues. He was sure that was the deal.

"My pet, you did not earn a meal today. You must learn to be more obedient. Turlough, place the tray just out of his reach. He will be able to look at what his attitude took from him." When Turlough did as he was instructed, O’Neill whimpered. It was so close, but he knew, no matter how far he stretched, he would never reach it.

Lady Morgana heard his soft moan and bent down to stroke his head, forcing him to look at her. "Perhaps, my pet, if you can behave yourself this night, you can get something in the morning. Can you do that for me?"

O’Neill glared at her, part of him yelling not to give in, it was just food, but it was almost as if his head was separate from his body as he nodded slightly, accepting her terms for the hope of a morsel of food.

Lady Morgana smiled. He knew that she had won this battle. She helped him sit up and gestured for Turlough to bring the water goblet. She helped him sip some of the water, but took it away quickly. "You get the rest tomorrow if you behave. Right?"

Again he nodded, his eyes only seeing the goblet before him. She replaced the goblet on the tray and left the room with Turlough. O’Neill was sure there was someone just outside the door, but he couldn’t see who it was and he didn’t care. For the next hour or so, he tried desperately to reach the tray, but nothing he did got him even an inch closer.

Trying not to moan, he slumped down, curling up on his side in a fetal position—still facing the tray of food. Despite the torture of keeping it in view, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. He would never admit it to himself but that night his whimpers followed him—a Colonel in the US Air Force—down into a restless sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A gentle caress through his hair and down the side of his face brought O’Neill back to his senses. He unconsciously snuggled his cheek against the soft, gentle hand. He could almost forget where he was—almost. A moment later, the pain of his injuries made themselves known and he jerked his head away and opened his eyes wide. What was he doing? His sudden movement caused a blossom of pain throughout his body. He closed his eyes tightly, moaning, and instinctively curled up again. As be bent, cradling his bruised ribs, he realized what was happening. He couldn’t show his pain, his weakness, to these people. He tried to straighten up a little bit. Once he got the pain under control, he opened his eyes again, gazing levelly at Morgana. He was in control, at least of his emotions, for the moment. Morgana was sitting back on her heels, watching his every move, his every twitch.

He slowly raised himself up to a sitting position, trying not to groan. The room spun a few times and black dots flashed before his eyes, but sheer determination kept him conscious.

"Well, my pet, how do you feel after a long night’s sleep?"

He tried to lick his lips, but his mouth was dry. "Peachy. Thanks for asking." O’Neill tried to smile pleasantly, but he knew Morgana wasn’t convinced.

"You still continue to lie to me, my pet. Why is that?"

O’Neill shrugged wordlessly. Why answer when he could save that energy for later, for something else?

"Very well. Shall we continue where we left off yesterday?" When O’Neill didn’t object, instead choosing to stare intently at a spot just above her eyes, in the middle of her forehead, she continued. "How do you use the great stone circle to travel to other planets?"

When O’Neill’s steady gaze did not waver, she leaned in closer, making him look directly into her eyes.

"Colonel, I asked you a question. If you do not answer, I will have to punish you, and you know I don’t want to do that."

He narrowed his eyes. "In a pig’s eye," he muttered just under his breath. Morgana, though, heard it loud and clear, just as he had intended.

She leaned back, sighing slightly and gestured for Turlough and his friend to step into the cell. O’Neill still didn’t have a name to go with the second attendant. Maybe Bubba, he thought chuckling to himself. He looked like a Bubba. A big guy, wide all over and a little slow. It would work.

When Bubba came into view, O’Neill knew he was in trouble. Bubba held a scourge in his hand, lengths of leather with pieces of bone tied into the ends and it looked like he knew how to use it.

Oh for cryin’ out loud, that’s what I call primitive. O’Neill exclaimed silently, the more detached part of his brain amused by the irony of using such a method to convince him of their advanced status.

O’Neill tried to grab Morgana to get some type of protection; something between him and what he knew was coming, but she stepped expertly out of his way, allowing Turlough to swoop in and get a firm grip on him. O’Neill was roughly dragged to his feet and held securely while Morgana quickly bound his wrists together tightly, expertly. No amount of struggling was getting him out of Turlough’s vice-like grip. His bound wrists were then secured above his head to a metal ring on the ceiling, adjacent to the back wall. His face and ribs rubbed against the wall, aggravating his injuries. He knew this was not going to be pretty. This was not his idea of a good morning wake up call.

Morgana stepped close and drew his black shirt up, running her hands lightly over his back, like a lover’s caress. She leaned in close, her hands still moving gently across his skin. She spoke softly, whispering in his ear. "We do not have to go through with this if you would only answer a few of my questions."

He gritted his teeth. "Not on your life."

"Perhaps another night, my pet." Morgana sounded disappointed. She stepped away quickly, motioning for Bubba to get started.

Whatever Bubba’s day job was must have prepared him for this because he got it right the first time out. The pain lanced through Jack as the bits of bone pierced his back, leaving lines of blood behind. He held his breath, trying to hold the pain in, trying to keep control. His ribs strained against the stone wall, lighting another fire along his side.

How many times the scourge pelted his back, he did not know. After the tenth stroke, he lost count. Yelps and barely controlled screams flew from his mouth unintentionally. Every once and a while, Bubba would hit an unusually tender spot and a full-blooded scream would emerge from the depths of his body. During it all, he could hear Morgana asking questions, urging him to answer so the pain would end. He could feel the blood running down his back, his hot blood, running down to his waist, being absorbed by the waist band of his pants, dripping down his legs. His wrists were rubbed raw. It was sheer agony, but he couldn’t let her know. He wouldn’t give in. He couldn’t give in.

But he was tiring.

After a moment or two, he realized he was sagging against the wall, breathing heavily, and no more strokes fell. Without the support of his wrists above his head, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand. His knees didn’t want to straighten, to support his body weight. He took a chance and glanced back, trying to see what was happening. His eyes, though, didn’t want to focus. Drops of sweat trickled into them and pain glazed them over, making it hard to see clearly.

Lady Morgana was gesturing about something or other, that much Jack could tell, but anything more than that was lost to him. Moments later, however, Turlough stepped close and pulled Jack’s shirt down over his wounded back streaming with blood. He then released his wrists from the metal ring where they were secured and gently lowered Jack to the floor, mindful of his new injuries. Fresh waves of pain from strained muscles, excruciating lacerations covering his back, and bruised and battered ribs welled up, threatening to push him over the edge into darkness, but he held onto the pain. It proved he was alive. It proved he had held on, that he hadn’t given in, that he hadn’t broken.

Morgana stepped close, gently rolling him onto his stomach. He groaned as his bruised ribs came in contact with the cold, rough ground but he was in no shape to protest.

"My pet, what have you made me do?" she whispered, her hand running through his hair. She lifted his shirt, gazing at the wounds still oozing blood. They were many but only a few were deep.

"Turlough, retrieve the small healing device and please bring me water and a cloth." Her hands found the leather strips binding his wrists together. While she waited for Turlough to return, she untied his wrists, allowing him to lie a little more comfortably on the dirt floor.

"Why?" he whispered harshly, barely getting the words out. He had to know. It was hard to breathe with the pain in his chest.

"Shush, my pet, rest," she said, stroking his brow. "Tomorrow is another day. Maybe tomorrow you shall please me once again. Until then, you can rest."

He didn’t argue. He didn’t have the strength. But why was she doing this now? Had he given her what she wanted? Had the words he was trying to hold back somehow emerged? What had he screamed? Had he cried out? Had he howled out answers to her questions? What had he said? He could not remember. All he remembered was the pain: the pain of bone, digging into his back, pulling away pieces of flesh with every pass of the scourge. Pain had become his friend, his constant companion.

A cool wet cloth pressed against his back brought him to his senses. Morgana was carefully sponging and cleaning his back, taking great care not to hurt him. He tried to pull away, but had no energy to move from her light grip.

Soon, warmth replaced the dampness. It penetrated deep, healing as it went. The pain was lessening, but he tried to hold onto it with all his strength. It was all he had left that was his and she was taking even that away from him.

"No," he cried, shuttering as the pain left his body. "No."

"Shush, my pet. Rest," she whispered.

The blackness that was threatening slowly came to take him away—away from the torture, the pain, and her kindness. What had he done?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Precisely one hour after SG5 gated back to the SGC, Hammond called to order their team debriefing. In addition to SG5, Hammond requested the presence of SG1. Both teams had been to the same planet and had had two very different experiences. He knew both of them could not be accurate and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Let’s get this started, people," Hammond said, settling down in the chair at the head of the briefing table. Carter and Jackson, at his right, were quick to start.

"Sir, I don’t understand how SG5 found no sign of life on that planet. When we were there it was teeming with life—both animals and humans," Carter said emphatically, her hands moving in synch with her words.

"Major, what are you implying?" Colonel Yearwood asked, immediately on the defensive. His shoulders tensed and his light brown eyes flashed with anger.

"I’m not implying anything, Colonel," Carter started, but Jackson cut her off.

"Actually, she is implying that you didn’t do your job." Jackson played with his glasses, absently adjusting how they sat on his nose. His gaze was direct, unyielding, and accusing. "It is absolutely beyond me how a trained military soldier, such as yourself, could have missed the very obvious signs of human habitation. Did you even bother to follow the path to the village?"

"Dr. Jackson, I resent the implications of your words." Yearwood angrily pointed his index finger at Jackson. "And in any case, where do you get off insulting the very military organization that invited you to work on this program? If you don’t watch what you say, you might find yourself on the outside. You seem to forget that you’re just a civilian with special privileges."

"Well, at least I know what my job is and carry it out properly." Jackson shot back angrily.

Hammond sat with his hands crossed in front of him and watched the exchange. Insults were flying back and forth across the table. It almost felt like he was watching a competitive tennis match. It was time he intervened. His quiet, yet authoritative voice brought the argument to its end immediately. "Enough." A stern look around the table followed his declaration. Carter had the decency to look embarrassed, her military training kicking in. Jackson stared accusingly at Yearwood, but held his tongue. Everyone could see Yearwood’s animosity hovering just under the surface. Tension permeated the room. Hammond took a deep breath before he continued. "I will not tolerate this type of childish behavior from my officers—or from those who are under this command." He eyeballed each team-member individually. "Do I have to remind you that you are all adults?"

"No, sir," mumbled Carter sheepishly.

Colonel Yearwood backed down a moment later. "No, sir. Sorry, sir." Daniel didn’t say anything, taking a noticeable interest in his fingernails.

Once silence settled over the room, he continued. "Now Colonel Yearwood, would you please recount your team’s experience on P5X-171. From the beginning," Hammond firmly added, folding his hands together and turning his attention on the SG5 commander. Yearwood cleared his throat uneasily and narrated his team’s time off-world, step by step; backtracking and elaborating when prompted by Hammond or Carter. Jackson remained unusually silent.

"Very well, Colonel. Thank you for your thoroughness in this assignment." Hammond looked around the table at the dispirited faces of SG1 and SG5. No one was a happy camper tonight—him included. He was still missing his second in command—and his friend. He shook off the thought. "Does anyone have anything else to add?"

After a few beats of silence, Jackson spoke up. His hands, which had never stopped playing with his glasses, now underscored his words with every gesture. "Yes, General. I believe you need to send another team back to P5X-171 and I need to be part of that team. There are sentient lifeforms on that planet, whatever Colonel Yearwood says. How else would you explain what’s happened to us?" Hammond’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Did Jackson ever give up? Vaguely, Hammond wondered just how Jack O’Neill could deal with this kind of passion every day of the week.

Jackson took a deep breath and continued on full tilt. Apparently he’d been gearing up for this. Jackson’s blue eyes were clear and focused intently on Hammond, as if his very force of will would convince Hammond that he was right. "You are insistent that we have another member in our team. If that’s the case, how did we forget him in the first place? It wasn’t by merely inhaling the air on that planet or eating or drinking something. If that were the case, our memory loss would be more extensive. Apparently, our memories have been erased or blocked in a very deliberate manner. Someone had to do it to us. Therefore, that indicates that there is some type of intelligent life residing on that planet. Not only intelligent, but also highly advanced. How else could our memories have been changed that specifically, that deliberately?"

While Jackson’s observations had the ring of truth to them, Hammond couldn’t order another mission to this planet based on hypotheses and half-formed ideas. He needed something concrete, something solid. Unfortunately, where this planet was concerned, he didn’t think he was going to get it.

Hammond sighed softly. Nothing ever went easily when SG1 was concerned. "Dr. Jackson, that sounds all well and good, but if that were the case, then SG5’s memories might also have been tampered with."

Colonel Yearwood perked up noticeably. "Absolutely not. We didn’t even come in contact with any intelligent life. There was nothing there."

"That you remember," Jackson said quietly, speaking aloud the thought in everyone’s mind.

"SG5, please report to Dr. Fraiser and have her give you a thorough, and I mean very thorough, examination. I want to get to the bottom of this." He looked around the briefing room table, catching everyone’s eye while his mind mulled over this information. A conclusion was reached easily, but he knew it wouldn’t be popular. The good thing about the military was that it wasn’t a democracy. If they didn’t listen, he could make them. "Until I get answers that I like, both SG1 and SG5 are confined to base under the care of Dr. Fraiser. Only once Dr. Fraiser clears you for duty will I consider re-activating both teams. Dismissed." Hammond stood and quickly walked out of the briefing room and into his office, avoiding the arguments he knew would come. A succession of "yes, sirs" followed him out.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack O’Neill woke to the smell of breakfast. Not just any breakfast, but a freshly made, home cooked breakfast. The kind mom made when she was proud of you.

For a minute, he thought he was home again, but soon enough he came face to face with the harsh reality of a dirt floor and his left cheek pressed firmly into it. He realized that home was the farthest thing from the truth. The cold and damp had settled into his joints like a smothering blanket; they were stiff from disuse. He was lying on his left side, sprawled out ungracefully on the floor. He moved slightly, bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming, and was surprised when he didn’t feel anything.

Slowly, one by one, memories returned. The torture from the night—or the day before. Lady Morgana cleaning his back, using some kind of healing device. He opened one eye—the one not pressed into the dirt floor—to see what, or who, was around. He was alone as far as he could tell and there was a tray of food beside him—a different one than before. This one had several rolls lumped into a pile in the center—while not a large amount of food, compared to what he’d eaten recently it was a feast.

He carefully eased himself into a sitting position. The chain dangling from the collar around his neck rattling slightly. He was pleasantly surprised when the room remained rock steady. That was a new thing, especially lately.

Although his muscles were sore, he seemed to be in one piece. Even his ribs were fine. He was confused and a little surprised, but from experience, he knew he didn’t want to look a gift horse—or in this case, a misplaced Celtic priestess—in the mouth.

See, Daniel. I do pay attention sometimes, he thought.

He looked around again, inspecting the room. There hadn’t been much of an opportunity earlier to do so. Besides, on that short chain he couldn’t have gotten very far in any case.

Squinting a little, he noticed that there was a bucket in the far corner—in the back of the cell deep in the shadows. That would have come in handy that first night, he thought, grimacing in disgust. He’d woken up briefly in the middle of the night, his bladder finally screaming for release. Tired and aching, he merely had the strength to turn a little, the chain not giving him any leeway. Even in the dark he was disgusted—both at himself and the situation. He was no better than an animal. From what he could see, his urine, while not as plentiful as he originally expected, was dark yellow. Dehydration had definitely set in. Weariness and resignation had finally pushed him back down into a restless slumber, leaving him barely enough energy to move away from the puddle slowly soaking into the dirt and pebble covered floor before him, the wool of his pants soaking up some of the foul smelling liquid. He had been too tired to care.

He glanced around the room again, making sure he was alone. Once he confirmed his first observations, he moved gingerly over to the tray, easing his muscles into moving and working once again. He took a warm roll into his hands, lifting it to his face to inhale the intoxicating aroma. He closed his eyes, letting it envelop his senses. Without buttering it, he took a small bite, savoring the simple rustic bread. It tasted like heaven.

He wanted to devour the whole roll in one bite, but knew that wouldn’t be recommended. He knew the routine, had been through it more times than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t eaten in days and he didn’t want to lose his first meal. He went slowly, pacing himself. The water, although lukewarm, was sheer ecstasy.

He had polished off one of the rolls and almost the entire goblet of water when Lady Morgana walked in. He nearly felt human again, although he could use a long, hot soak in a shower.

"Good afternoon, my pet. How are you feeling?" she asked, looking down at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

O’Neill paused, actually considering the answer to her question. He cleared his throat several times before he could get the words out. "All things considered, I’m okay."

"Good. You have been unconscious for two days. We were starting to get worried."

"Two days?" Jeez, he thought, no wonder I feel stiff. The floor isn’t the best place for a restful night’s sleep—let alone two nights. He looked up at her, curious as to what she wanted. She would tell him eventually, he knew, but there had to be a catch, a string somewhere. He just couldn’t figure out what it could be. While he was apparently in some semblance of working order, his mind was still playing catch up.

"Yes, the healing device takes much energy, from both the patient and the caregiver. You had many injuries that required healing. The food and water should help to restore some of your strength. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I did," O’Neill said, clearing his throat again. He glanced around the room again, trying to order his thoughts. His interest was piqued, however, and he wasn’t in the mood to beat around the bush. One part of him wanted to know the answer, but the other part didn’t really want to know. Grimacing slightly, he dived in. "Why exactly are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? I thought you said I was lower than your enemy, somewhere just above pond scum. Why the sudden interest in my health?"

Lady Morgana smiled slightly. "Why, my pet, did you not know that as long as you continue to help my people that I am honor bound to treat you well?"

"What?" O’Neill was confused. His forehead creased, causing the line between his brows to deepen. He hadn’t helped her. He hadn’t told her anything. Or had he? He wracked his brain, trying to remember, but just drew a blank. His memories of his torture were kind of hazy. All he could clearly remember was the pain.

"Tonight we shall speak once again. Perhaps you will be able to secure for yourself another day of rest and food. What do you think my pet?" She smiled evilly at him before she turned toward the door.

O’Neill was on his feet, his eyes flashing in anger. How he got there so quickly, he didn’t remember. He was acting on instinct and instinct alone and he didn’t like this, not one bit. He was at the end of his rope, literally; the chain stretched taunt behind him. He pointed his finger angrily at her. "There’s no way I would have helped you. I’m not one of your projects, your experiments."

She turned back to him, a contented look on her face. The look sent chills down his back. He had seen that look before. He had seen it in Iraq, on the face of the base commander before the unspeakable torture began. He had seen it on Hathor’s face as she placed the mature Goa’uld on his chest, moments before it dived into his exposed neck. He had also seen it when he was on Netu, on the face of Apophis just before he forced him to drink the Blood of Sokar and relive the horrible memories from his past. Some might have called it evil determination. It was a madness for power and control so deeply rooted that the best of intentions could even prove to be deadly for those who stood in the way.

"My pet, you leave me no choice. Tonight you will see just how much you already belong to me." She stepped closer to O’Neill, gazing directly into his hate-filled eyes. "Hear my words this day. You will never win. I will slowly drive you out of your mind. I want to be the one to see your face when you reach that place when you realize a woman has defeated you, and you scream and beg for my mercy. You will get there, I assure you and, when you do, I will be there to see it. You will help my people, whatever it takes." She stepped back to the door, tossing the last words over her shoulder as she walked away. "Tonight, we shall take it one step further and see how far you can go. Be well, my pet, and rest. You will need all your strength tonight."

O’Neill stood in place for several minutes, trying to cool his rage, his fists clenching and unclenching unconsciously. He had so many unanswered questions. Where did she get all the Goa’uld technology? It wasn’t like the Goa’uld had just left it behind. It wasn’t hard to come by, even for them. How had these people defeated the Goa’uld in the first place? Who was Morgana really? Apparently, she was different from everyone else. She had a presence—sometimes intoxicatingly beautiful and kind, other times darkly malevolent. The villagers worshipped her, catering to her every whim. She received their unquestioning obedience. She thrived on it.

O’Neill settled back down on the dirt floor, leaning against the stone wall. He drew the food tray close to him so he could reach it without stretching. The bread was cooling, but he didn’t care. Knowing his stubbornness, he knew it would probably be quite some time before he earned another meal. He had better try to eat as much as he could now. He would need the energy and the strength later on—especially if Morgana got her way.

He sat, quietly munching on a second roll and wondering what torture she had planned for tonight. He spent the afternoon that way, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. Compartmentalizing, he called it, locking up bits and pieces of his mind so there was something left after the torture was done. It was something he had learned to do years ago, mostly out of necessity. It wasn’t exactly something the nice Air Force folks taught you. It was a skill you picked up along the way.

Turlough and Bubba arrived sooner than he expected. His time sense was off. It didn’t help to be in a dark dungeon with no access to the outside. It could be the middle of the night for all he knew. The torches in the hall continued to burn all day and all night, steadfast and unchanging.

Bubba pulled him roughly to his feet while Turlough unhooked the chain from the wall. They dragged him down the hall to the Goa’uld laboratory, barely letting him get his feet under him. Somewhere along the way he had lost his socks. He protested all the way, trying to convince the goons that he could "walk very well on his own two feet, thank you." They ignored him and dragged him forward relentlessly.

This time, in place of the single wooden chair in the middle of the room, a table stood with what looked like some type of soft material on top. Bubba lifted him, dropping him unceremoniously on the top. O’Neill struggled, but to no avail. They held him down, without even breaking a sweat.

The surface wasn’t the usual hard metal O’Neill was accustomed to when it came to Goa’uld technology. It was soft, conforming to his body.

After freeing one of his hands, Turlough pressed a button on the side of the table and a soft humming filled the air. Turlough and Bubba stepped back from the table and, before O’Neill could figure out what was happening, the table beneath him started moving. O’Neill watched—his eyes filled with understanding and horror—as streams of what looked like liquid metal surged up from beneath him.

At first he thought he would be covered completely with the material, but that was not the case. Restraints appeared just above his elbows, at his wrists, just above his knees, at his ankles, around his neck and the collar, and around his waist. They firmly and effectively secured him to the table at every movable point. It only took seconds and the streams of metal hardened. He pulled and tugged at the restraints, trying franticly to break free, but it was no use. He was completely and thoroughly incapacitated. He was helpless, unable to move a muscle in his own defense. He could barely even lift his head. This was no Goa’uld technology he had ever seen before.

"So it’s torture time again, is it?" O’Neill asked sarcastically, trying to cover his nervousness, not really expecting an answer. He wasn’t surprised then when Turlough and Bubba didn’t respond, stepping back to guard him instead.

O’Neill rolled his eyes and gestured the best he could with his hands. "Look, guys, I’m not going anywhere, as if you hadn’t already noticed. You don’t have to stand there staring at me."

Turlough looked at O’Neill for a moment before answering. "Lady Morgana requested us to remain here."

"Did she?"

"Yes." Turlough was as expressive as Teal’c tonight. That didn’t bode well.

Tough crowd, O’Neill thought, grimacing. All the while he was tugging carefully, forcefully at the metal that secured him to the table. It wasn’t budging, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He spoke up a moment later. "So, what exactly does she have planned for tonight? A little dining, a little dancing, a little torture?"

"I do not know," said Turlough evenly, staring intently at a spot on the wall across the room.

"That’s enough, Turlough," Lady Morgana said sharply from the doorway. O’Neill tried without success to raise his head to look at her. No one had heard her approach. "Both of you may wait in the hall. I might need your assistance later tonight."

"Yes, my Lady." Bubba and Turlough uttered, bowed, and quickly exited the room, closing the door behind them.

"So...what do you have in mind?" O’Neill asked, trying to keep the anxiety from his voice as she circled the table like a shark, staring down at him. She was inspecting him like a piece of meat. Every now and then she’d reach down, tugging at his clothing, caressing his arm, his leg, whatever was close.

"Hey, come on. What do you think you’re doing?" O’Neill protested. He shifted infinitesimally, nervous and unable to do anything but watch, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. She merely smiled at his discomfort and continued on.

After what seemed like hours, she strode over to the side of the room toward some shelving and pulled a few items off. He didn’t remember those shelves from the other night—however many days ago that was, he thought absently. Walking back to O’Neill, she pressed a small button on the side of the table and a tray slid out. She placed the items she held on it.

O’Neill couldn’t help but be impressed by the technology. As much as he complained and moaned about Carter’s technobabble, he knew cool when he saw it. This was cool technology. Not that he was all that interested in examining it close up, but tonight, it didn’t look like he had much choice in the matter.

"Now, my pet, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, it’s your choice."

He looked directly at her and tried giving her his most charming smile. "Well, I don’t have the reputation of being easy and I’m not about ready to start now. Besides, I wouldn’t want to start any rumors. So, what do you think? You’ve got three guesses."

"I think you are determined to defy me." Her green eyes flashed in anger, matching O’Neill’s dark brown ones in intensity.

"Well, you guessed right the first time. You win a prize," he said sarcastically.

She ignored his comments and picked up one of the items off the tray at her side. It looked like some kind of Goa’uld technology, but he couldn’t place it. She saw his questioning look and graced him with an explanation. He was thankful for the delay, but discovered soon enough that he might have been better off not knowing.

"You recognize that this was once a Goa’uld device, do you not?" At O’Neill’s reluctant nod, she continued, spinning the tool in her fingers. "This was a simple instrument once, but it only had one purpose, to cut. Now, it can do so much more, from simply causing pain like this," she said, pressing the tip lightly into the flesh of his right arm, causing burning pain to shoot up and down the length of his arm.

O’Neill held his breath and bit his lip in an effort to hold in his outcry. The fingers of his right hand stretched and spasmed. Morgana lifted up the device, leaving a small welt on his arm that was already turning red.

"Or," she continued, "with a little pressure it can do this." She moved down the length of his body to his right leg and pressed the device in firmly, drawing it up his leg. An intense pain ripped through him. He tried arching his back in an attempt to escape the agony but the restraints held him tightly—he didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth, but a moan escaped his lips. He could feel the mark the device made, even through his pant leg. He could feel the hot blood dripping down his thigh and pooling beneath him, soaking through the light woolen pants.

"Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?" She asked rhetorically as O’Neill tried to catch his breath. She watched him thoughtfully for a minute. "Or, if I was so inclined, I could do this," she said, firmly pressing it to one of his ribs. The audible sound of the bone breaking echoed through the room. The white-hot pain along his side threatened to overwhelm his senses and blackness danced at the outer edge of his vision, but his consciousness held on. He screamed and cursed her.

"You can scream all you like, my pet, no one can hear you down here." She smiled down at him. "Oh, and do not think that death will end your pain. The table you are on was once one of several sarcophagi that the Goa’uld left behind. We modified this one. This table will keep you alive as long as you remain on it. It does not take away the pain, but it can heal you enough to keep you alive during the torture."

"Swell," O’Neill said through gritted teeth. It was all he could get out. He was breathing heavily now with short shallow breaths, trying not to move too much. Broken bones digging into raw nerves shouldn’t hurt so much, but for some reason it did—every time.

"I’m glad you approve. Shall I continue?" she asked, waving the device. "Or shall I demonstrate some of the other toys I have at my disposal?"

"Whatever floats your boat," O’Neill said breathlessly. A drop of sweat trickled down from his hairline, tracing a path down his temple and along his left eye.

"My, my, we’re cooperative tonight," she said, picking up another tool. This one was about the size of her palm. "This one is very interesting. We combined several pieces of Goa’uld technology to get this device. I’m actually surprised the Goa’uld have not created something similar. Although, they might have developed something like this since they were last here. But then, they are a rather stupid and single-minded race. They do not see the big picture, I believe that’s what you call it." She smiled to herself in thought. A few moments went by before she brought herself back to the present. "You see, while the other device leaves red welts when it is used, this device leaves no external markings. Instead it just causes pain at the lowest setting and at the higher setting can cause internal trauma. It’s very useful. Here, let me show you what I mean. For this demonstration, I’ll leave it on its lowest setting."

"Thanks, you’re all heart." He grimaced and braced himself the best he could for what he knew was to come.

She carefully looked him over trying to decide just where to start. She opted for his lower left leg. Pressing it to his calf muscle, a dull pain started to radiate up his leg. The longer she held it there, the more intense the pain got. Before too long, he was moaning and cursing under his breath. Just when he thought his muscle was going to cramp up, she stopped and the pain immediately subsided.

"See, my pet, the fun we can have?" The frightening part about this whole thing is that she appeared to be enjoying herself—and she hadn’t asked him anything yet.

"Oh yeah. Fun times can be had by all."

"Now then, I think it’s time to get down to business," she said, glaring at O’Neill effectively shutting him up. "Where do we start? Oh I know, where can the Stargate take me?"

He looked at her, hatred in his eyes. "Straight to hell. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

She didn’t flinch; instead choosing to press the palm device against his abdomen. The pain began again, slowly at first. "I asked you a question. I intend to get an answer. Where can the Stargate take me?"

O’Neill tried to catch his breath before he answered. He didn’t want her to know how much it was starting to hurt. He enunciated each word. It was the only way they were coming out. "It’s ...not ...my ...fault ...you’ve ...never ...played ...Monopoly." He fought desperately to take a deep breath. It took all his energy to get the words out. "You ...had ...better ...get ...used ...to ...disappointment."

A cold fury raged through her eyes and she pressed the device in deeper before drawing it away. If he could have sagged in relief he would have, but he couldn’t even scratch his nose. Oddly enough, as soon as he realized that circumstance, his nose started twitching. He didn’t think she would be cooperative if he asked her to scratch his nose.

Apparently she wasn’t happy with the results the second device was giving her. She reached for the scalpel-like device and continued her questions.

"Where can the Stargate take me?"

"To Disneyland." The device pressed into his thigh, drawing blood as she pulled it up his leg as if she were slicing open a tomato.

"How many worlds does the Stargate go to?"

"Why? Trying to get away from it all?" She pressed it sharply into his left forearm, snapping the bones. He yelped in pain, cursing the day of her birth. He instinctively wanted to cradle his arm, but couldn’t budge. Tears of frustration and pain formed in his eyes. Sheer determination was the only thing that kept them from falling.

"What is the situation out there? Why have you not defeated the Goa’uld?"

He breathed heavily, trying to push the pain away. Compartmentalize, he thought. Take the pain and put it away. He knew he could do it. He’d done it before. Unfortunately, the pain kept coming back to haunt him. Sweat was popping out all over his face. The pain was starting to make him nauseous.

"Killed a few. Still a number of slimy snakeheads left. Still enough to kill you."

Again the device dived in, drawing blood again as she twisted it into his side. Warm blood spilled down his side, pooling beneath him. She jabbed it in for a good measure more and another rib broke under the pressure. Blackness threatened to close him on him as the pain swelled. He screamed.

Once she got started, she worked quickly, developing a sadistic rhythm of sorts, asking questions about everything. Each question was answered with a sarcastic comment that only proved to infuriate her more. She worked her little tool with surgeon-like precision, only bruising at times while other times, peeling the skin apart, letting the blood run free, or digging it in deep, rupturing blood vessels and breaking bones. Through it all, she kept a satisfied smile on her face. She was enjoying herself.

A number of times, O’Neill thought he was going to black out, but each time he regained his senses she was there, attacking with words and with the knife.

In this place, time had no meaning. All he knew was the pain. There wasn’t a place on his body that remained unscathed. At one point, she scored the bottom of his left foot several times, just because she could. Another time she broke the bones in his right foot. His knees, already aching from the dampness, didn’t escape her notice. Even while she snapped the ligaments in one knee, she smiled, knowing exactly what kind of pain she caused. While she pressed the device into his cheek, she smiled lovingly down at him, and broke his cheekbone.

Pain wracked his body and there was nothing he could do to comfort himself or protect himself. He yelled and screamed, cursing her, her race, her planet, and the very air she breathed. By the end, he shrieked and cried, yelling out nonsensical answers to questions he barely heard, let alone understood. The pain just had to stop. He couldn’t survive like this for much longer.

Blood dripped from more wounds than he could imagine, even from the bloodiest battles in which he had fought. Warm, sticky blood trickled from his body, collecting in a pool beneath him, his clothes soaking it up. His life-blood was oozing from him one drop at a time. Black spots danced before his eyes.

He didn’t even notice when she stopped. Instead, he vaguely heard her speaking to the men outside. "Leave him here until his wounds heal then throw him back in the cell."

He tried to draw a breath of relief, but his body’s shudders prevented even that comfort. She was finished. He could rest.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Days passed before General Hammond called another briefing.

During the ensuing time, Dr. Fraiser conducted extensive tests on SG1 and SG5. At one point, a brief glimmer of hope surfaced. According to the initial blood tests on SG5, there was some kind of foreign chemical in their blood stream. Both Carter and Fraiser got extremely excited, but when SG5 was re-tested in an effort to isolate the chemical, all traces of it were gone. It was as if it had never existed. Unfortunately, that put them right back where they started, but it was a start, a clue as to what had happened.

When Fraiser couldn’t find what she wanted medically, she opted for an alternative approach—hypnosis. However, after several worthless sessions of hypnosis with the remaining members of SG1 and SG5, Fraiser had to admit defeat. Whatever the chemical was, the block on those memories was absolute. Fraiser, though, was still convinced that there was something more. It was time to call another briefing and throw some ideas around. Both of the teams had been compromised and O’Neill was still MIA.

Carter, Jackson, and Teal’c walked into the briefing room together, followed by Dr. Fraiser. SG5 was noticeably absent. Moments later, Hammond walked in from his adjoining office.

"At ease people," he said, situating himself at the head of the briefing room table as Carter and Fraiser came to attention. He let them settle into their respective seats before he brought the briefing to order. "According to a preliminary report submitted to me by Dr. Fraiser, both SG1 and SG5 were under the influence of some kind of foreign substance."

"That is correct, sir," Fraiser said, chiming in. "Apparently, when enough time passes the chemical is absorbed into the body, leaving no trace in the bloodstream. I don’t know what it is exactly. It’s only one piece of the puzzle."

"Is it naturally occurring?"

"I don’t know, sir. It’s hard to tell. We didn’t get a large enough sample to do much of an analysis." Fraiser was apologetic.

"What is the chemical for? Could it have caused their memory lapses?" Hammond asked.

"I don’t know, sir. Again, we would need more to analyze it, but I don’t see how a chemical could have such a different effect on two groups of people. With SG1, they have a very specific memory loss. But with SG5, their memory loss is all encompassing. They have no recollection of anything about the people that SG1 dealt with. " Fraiser waved her hands, as if that would help her find the right words. "There has to be something more involved another variable. I just don’t know what that something is."

"Major, do you agree with Dr. Fraiser?"

Carter paused; her blue eyes fixed on the space just above the briefing room table, thinking carefully before she spoke. "Yes, sir. I’d have to draw a similar conclusion. Someone or something else has to be involved." She grimaced slightly before she continued. "It’s almost like SG5’s memories were erased in a much sloppier manner. Maybe we could even be talking about two different things altogether. I’m just speculating here, sir."

Hammond glanced down at Teal’c, whose forehead was creased in deep thought. "Teal’c, any comments or anything to add?"

"I would have to concur with Doctor Fraiser and Major Carter. There is something more involved than a simple chemical. If it were only a chemical, my symbiote would have been able to overcome the effects of the substance. I, too, have been affected by the same false memories as Major Carter and Daniel Jackson."

Jackson, meanwhile, had been mulling over those very points and had come to a similar conclusion several hours ago. All things led to the fact that someone on that planet had done something to them and they had to get to the bottom of it—quickly. "General," Daniel said, leaning his elbows on the table and removing his glasses. They dangled from his fingertips, swinging, as if to emphasize each point as he made it. "We have to go back to that planet. Even though they seem to have taken some of our memories away from us, I don’t believe that they intended to harm us."

Hammond snorted in disbelief. "And what exactly would you call what they did do to you?"

"General, they could have done so much more to us. They had the opportunity to kill us while we slept, or poison us with dinner or breakfast. They chose to keep us alive. They wanted something." A light went off in his head. "Colonel O’Neill."

"What about him?" Hammond asked sharply. This was SG1’s first mention of the missing Colonel.

"You said that Colonel O’Neill left with us on this mission." At Hammond’s affirmative answer, Daniel continued, "That’s one of the pieces to this puzzle. Someone wanted Colonel O’Neill and that’s why they chose to remove that memory from us. They didn’t want him to be missed but they didn’t take into account that there would be other people who would realize immediately that he was gone." He threw his hands up. "How could I have been so dense?"

"None of us realized it, Daniel," Carter said quietly.

"Yes, but even though the General knew he was missing, it still worked to their advantage. We haven’t gone back to look for him and when we did, they just removed the memory of their entire civilization. Now, that’s given them more time to do whatever it is that they want with him." Daniel’s words finally sunk in, giving him a heightened sense of urgency. "General, we have to go back. We have to try and set up this treaty and we have to find Colonel O’Neill."

"Now, hold on a minute, Doctor," Hammond said, raising his hand trying to calm Jackson down. "Out of good conscience, I can’t send another team back until I know what’s going on. Something or someone has altered your memories and it is also very likely that this also occurred with SG5. What makes another team any different? What else could they do to you? I can’t order another mission—whether it be search and rescue or diplomatic—knowing full well that the team I send will most likely be compromised in some way."

Jackson’s answer was succinct. "Then send SG1."

"Doctor Jackson, that’s preposterous and out of the question." Hammond said emphatically.

"But, sir—" Jackson started, but was cut off by Cater.

"Sir, I have to agree with Daniel."

"I, too, think we should return to the planet," Teal’c said.

Hammond looked unbelievingly between Teal’c and Carter but remained quiet, waiting for an explanation. He got one from Carter moments later.

"Sir, think about it this way. Both Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana expect SG1 to return to establish diplomatic relations with them. We promised that we would return and they might be able to help us in our fight against the Goa’uld. If they’ve already modified us, altering something in our minds, they wouldn’t consider us to be a risk—like they considered SG5. Besides," she said shrugging, "what do we have to lose at this point?"

"Besides the rest of your minds?" Hammond asked, sounding acutely like O’Neill. He didn’t like where this was going, but it didn’t look like he had much of a choice. He blew out a breath in defeat. "Very well. I’ll send a team to set up something with this Lord Kentigern so we can start this whole diplomatic process. Major Ferretti can go with SG2." Hammond pushed back his chair, preparing to stand, but was stopped by Jackson’s voice.

"But General, that’s just the point. SG2 shouldn’t be put at risk. You should send SG1." Daniel’s eyes pleaded with him.

"Dr. Jackson, I am not comfortable sending all of you to the planet at this point. SG2 is capable of setting up a date for your return."

"Sir, if you don’t feel comfortable sending all of SG1, then just send me with them. I know the people there. I’ve been there. Besides, a friendly face might not scare them away like it apparently did with SG5." Jackson was practically begging.

Hammond tried not to sigh, but Jackson did have a point. A friendly face might help. He straightened up, trying to ease the tension building in his shoulders. "Very well, you can accompany SG2. Major Carter, you and Teal’c will remain here. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, " Carter replied, eyeing Jackson suspiciously.

Teal’c inclined his head. "Very well, General Hammond."

"Dr. Jackson, be prepared to leave at 0900 hours tomorrow morning. This time, they won’t wait for you, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." Jackson swallowed nervously. He didn’t remember being late the last time they’d gated to the planet.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Carter found Daniel some hours later, it was apparent that he had spent most of the evening searching through his accumulated goods and artifacts for something. She found him knee deep in boxes and crumpled newspapers.

"Hey, Daniel," she said easing into the room, carefully watching where she put her feet. "What’cha doing?"

Daniel twitched, nearly dropping the pottery vase he was holding. "Sam, what are you doing sneaking up on me?"

"Sorry, Daniel," she said, dropping lightly to sit next to him on the floor. "I wasn’t sneaking. Apparently you’re just wrapped up in whatever you’re doing."

"No, that’s okay. I guess I’m just a little jumpy," he frowned slightly, his eyes closed briefly while he attempted to stretch the muscles in his neck. She was sure his back and neck were stiff from sorting through boxes of artifacts. "I’m just trying to find something to take with me tomorrow, to give to Lady Morgana or Lord Kentigern. I don’t have any idea what might be considered appropriate and I can’t seem to find anything in this mess." He indicated the piles surrounding him with a wave of his hand.

"I can’t imagine why you can’t find anything," Sam said lightly, teasing him. Daniel’s normally organized mess was ten times worse than she had ever seen. He was putting a lot of effort into this—more than normal. "Daniel, why don’t you just wait and bring something when the negotiations begin? You don’t have to stress yourself out now trying to find something immediately."

Daniel gently placed the vase on the floor and rubbed a hand across his tired face, sighing deeply. "Sam, for some reason, I just need to do this. I can’t explain it."

"Are you feeling guilty?"

Daniel’s head snapped up quickly. "Why do you say that?"

"I don’t know," she shook her head as if she was trying to clear it. She was even surprised. That wasn’t what she had thought was going to come out of her mouth.

After a few beats, Daniel spoke up quietly. "Yeah. For some reason, I feel guilty and I don’t know why. I have to make things right, but I don’t even know what right is."

She nodded, placing her hand lightly on Daniel’s slumped and rounded shoulder. "Daniel I know exactly how you feel. I have to make things right, but I don’t know how, either.

"It’s almost as if our subconscious knows something is wrong and it’s trying to fix it."

"Almost, Daniel. Almost." Silence descended on them, as they were each lost in their own thoughts. A few minutes later, she broke the silence. "Daniel, why did you bring Colonel O’Neill up in the briefing before?"

Daniel looked at her for a few minutes, the intensity of his gaze a little disconcerting. He sighed deeply before speaking. "Honestly...I wasn’t sure General Hammond would have agreed to the diplomatic mission if we weren’t going to try and find Colonel O’Neill."

"Oh," Sam said, a grimace crossing her face.

"And I don’t know how you feel, but this alliance just feels right. We need to do this. We need these people on our side," Daniel glanced up sheepishly. "I didn’t think there was any other way....Sam, do you even think that the Colonel is even alive?"

Sam paused, turning the question over and over in her mind. She wasn’t even certain he existed, let alone if he was alive or dead. "I don’t know, Daniel. It’s hard to know what to believe anymore." Sam let the silence settle between them, each of them alone with their thoughts. She spoke again a few minutes later. "You know, you should probably get some sleep. You have a big day ahead of you."

"Sleep? You must be kidding. I have to clean all this up." Daniel looked around at the piles of artifacts throughout the room and a haggard expression found its way to his face. She could understand why. Just looking at the piles made her tired. It would take hours to clean up.

"Daniel, go to bed. It’ll be here in the morning," Sam smiled tiredly at him. "Come on," she said, getting to her feet and extending her hand to him, "I’ll walk you back to your quarters. Besides, I need the company."

"Oh, what," he said, taking her hand, "was Teal’c busy tonight?"

"Actually, he was in the gym taking out his frustrations on the punching bag. I think we’re going to have to get a new one."

"What? A new Jaffa or a new punching bag?" Daniel teased, turning the light off and closing the door behind them.

"The Jaffa’s fine. It’s the punching bag I’m worried about."

"Thanks, Sam." Daniel said simply a few minutes later.

Sam looked at him quickly. "For what?"

"For being there. For reminding me that I’m not alone."

"Isn’t that what friends are for?" she asked, stopping in front of Daniel’s on base quarters. These quarters came in handy much too often. "Now try and get some rest. Sleep tight, don’t’ let the bed bugs bite."

"I’m exhausted. I’m sure I’ll sleep. Besides," he said with his hand on the doorknob, "I don’t think bed bugs have the security clearance for the SGC yet."

"Touché, Daniel," Sam smiled. "Night."

"Night, Sam," he said as she walked down the hall toward her own quarters.

She could feel the lingering effects of his gaze on her back long after she was out of his sight. She sighed and rubbed a weary hand across her face. Knowing Daniel, he was probably already fast asleep—stretched out across the bed, clothes and all.

It always amazed her, his ability to sleep at the drop of a hat. This night she was envious of his ease as she turned the door handle to her quarters. She knew she’d be counting the holes in the ceiling tiles tonight—just as she’d been doing ever since they got back. She sighed again and closed the door quietly behind her.

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Daniel arrived at the embarkation room early and was surprised to see Major Lou Ferretti and his team already there. He checked his watch, but the time was right. He still had ten minutes before they had to depart.

"Dr. Jackson, it’s good to see that you made it," Ferretti said as Daniel pulled his field vest in place.

"Uh, thanks." He wasn’t happy to be going without Sam and Teal’c, but in this instance he knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers. Looking up into the control room, he saw them, along with General Hammond, waiting and watching.

Major Ferretti called out, indicating it was time to get going. "General, we’re all ready down here. Can we get started?"

"Yes, Major. Take good care of Dr. Jackson and good luck. I expect you back in a few hours." General Hammond clicked off the microphone as the inner track of the gate started spinning.

Ferretti turned to address his team, his eyes focusing in on Jackson. "Remember people, we’re here for a quick meet and greet. No wandering around, no poking at ruins. Let’s just say hi and get back home. Understood?" He waited until he got Daniel’s reluctant nod before moving toward the ramp.

The wormhole whooshed open and Ferretti ordered his team to move out. Before Daniel stepped through, however, he turned back. Carter and Teal’c were still in the control room watching. He gave them a smile and a half-hearted wave and stepped through.

It was a nice day, Daniel observed when he arrived on the other side. SG2 had already fanned out, checking the area. He headed directly to the path that led to the village. Daniel could tell that Ferretti was not happy.

"Jackson, just where do you think you’re going?" Ferretti asked, his eyes flashing in anger. Daniel was sure that someone—probably Ferretti—had warned all of the SG teams about his particular proclivity to go wandering off. Daniel was positive that Ferretti remembered the original mission to Abydos and Daniel’s close encounter with the native animals. Ferretti should have known better.

Daniel stopped just before the path headed into the underbrush. What was it about those military types? Daniel pointed dramatically at the dirt beneath his feet. His tone was exasperated. "The path to the village is right here. I’m sure we’ll find someone on it. Besides, it’ll be quicker and more interesting than just standing here twiddling our thumbs."

Ferretti sighed loudly. "Very well Dr. Jackson, lead on."

Sure enough, about thirty minutes later, they met up with Egan who was very pleased to see him again. After a warm welcome that involved a lot of hugging and back slapping, they got down to business.

"Egan, we would like to return tomorrow evening to speak with Lord Kentigern about establishing a relationship between our two peoples. Can you arrange this for us?"

"Certainly, Daniel Jackson. Lord Kentigern instructed me to make the necessary arrangements with you when you returned. He will be available whenever you are."

Daniel bowed to Egan, showing his respect and his thanks. "Thank you, Egan. You serve your Lord well. Please let him know of our plans to return tomorrow night."

"I will do so. Also, if Samantha Carter can return, Lady Morgana would like to speak with her further. She was disappointed that she missed your departure."

"I will pass along the message, although I cannot be certain she will be able to attend. Some of her other duties may prevent here from joining us."

"I shall pass along that message to my Lady." He bowed low, very formal. "Thank you, Daniel Jackson. I look forward to a time when I can call you brother and truly mean it."  
Daniel returned his bow. "I, too, look forward to such a time."

They departed then, each going their own way, Daniel following SG2 back up the trail to the Stargate. Approximately two hours after they left, Daniel set foot back in the SGC, pleased with himself.

After a brief meeting with General Hammond, it was decided that he, Sam, Major Paul Davis, and Major Stan Kovachek would make up the diplomatic party. Major Kovachek was SG8's team leader, the SGC’s very own diplomatic team on call for this very type of situation. Lately, SG8 hadn't seen much action, so they were anticipating the meeting with Lord Kentigern.

Who knows, we might need all the help we can get, Daniel thought sarcastically. Since Teal’c had had such a strong reaction the last time, Dr. Fraiser thought it best he remain behind. Hammond agreed, although he was not thrilled to have the rest of SG1 on a field assignment. Maybe a trip to this planet would help jog their memories. Maybe.

As Daniel prepared himself for the meetings that would take place over the next few days, he still felt uneasy. He thought that by going back to the planet, the uneasiness would leave him, but in reality, it had just gotten worse. If he said anything, he knew he would be grounded faster than he could say mud. He just had to suck it up and get on with it. He wondered if Sam felt the same way. He didn’t want to ask just in case she didn’t. Besides, his feelings were immaterial. The alliance felt right and that was all that mattered. They needed this treaty—whatever the cost.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Egan cautiously approached the walled city of Meath. While he was eager to proclaim the news of the returning strangers and their desire to forge an alliance, he was of two minds.

Simply put, he did not approve of the actions of Lady Morgana. They were not honorable. They were not the actions of a warrior. Warriors did not skulk around in the dead of night stealing memories and drugging those who were considered friends.

Part of him knew that this was to be expected, just by the way she had watched O’Neill the night of the feast. She had drunk in O’Neill’s very presence, reveling in his power, his maleness, and his confidence.

Part of Egan’s mind tried to convince him that what she had done had to be right. She was their priestess and the wife of their Lord. But the nagging doubt kept returning, each time stronger than before.

He wandered down deep in the foundations of the great castle and he gazed upon the broken and battered body of the man who had led his people to their village with friendship and trade in mind.

The guards were gone for the night. There was no way this broken man was leaving the room under his own strength. The beating made sure of that; the restraints were superfluous. O’Neill had been here two nights already and had yet to awaken. The table, while providing a means of healing, took time—much more than the hand device.

O’Neill’s blood had pooled on the table beneath him, his clothes absorbing what they could, the rest soaking into the table itself. The wounds on his body were finally dry, no longer oozing the precious elixir of life. The bones would heal first, knitting themselves back together. Egan figured the broken bones had already healed. It was only a matter of time before the soft tissue injuries would heal as well.

Lady Morgana would remove O’Neill from the table before that could happen, however, he was sure of it. Why waste the energy on something that would heal easily enough on its own? Besides, she would want O’Neill awake and alert for the show she was to perform. O’Neill’s friends were returning tomorrow evening. She would want him there to see just how much she had taken from him.

Egan reached out cautiously with his hand, placing it lightly on O’Neill’s arm, carefully avoiding the purple bruises and red welts. O’Neill’s skin was dry to the touch, his eyes sunken and dark. A tube ran from the table into O’Neill’s arm, pumping some unknown fluid into his veins. Apparently, Lady Morgana wasn’t done with him yet. She knew O’Neill was suffering greatly from dehydration, in addition to his obvious physical injuries. The fluid was her one concession. Egan was sure, however, there was something extra in the liquid—probably a sedative or one of her more potent herbs that affected the mind.

He shuddered slightly, pulling his cloak tighter around his body. The mind, he thought, and its unfathomable depths. The very soul of a person resides there. She easily and effortlessly altered it, playing with it like a toy. How much of his mind was left? Egan sighed; realizing that nothing he could do would save this man. Never would he be the man that he once was. She truly had to be a god in order to do such things—unless she was the devil.

Egan took one last look at O’Neill before turning to leave. He didn’t want to be found here. It was bad enough that he had to face O’Neill’s friends tomorrow, fully knowing the anguish O’Neill had experienced—and what he knew was yet to come.

Egan had a message to deliver to Lady Morgana and he had delayed long enough. Climbing the narrow stairs back to the main passages he said a silent prayer to the gods for himself and the man he left behind.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A hand caressing his face and running through his hair brought Jack O’Neill back to his senses. He tried to brush the hand away, but his arm wouldn’t cooperate—the same way a brick doesn’t float in the air.

Confused, he opened his eyes, blinking furiously against the glare of the lights overhead, trying to clear them. Moments later, Lady Morgana’s smiling face came into focus, hovering above him.

"Good morning, my pet," she purred, her green eyes full of mirth. "Did you sleep well?"

"What?" he murmured, his mind refusing to engage. He tried to move his arm again, but for some reason he couldn’t fathom, it wasn’t behaving itself. Deep down, he knew it should move. It had moved in the past and he knew it should be able to move in the present. He closed his eyes, trying to remember, trying to figure out why his body parts weren’t working like he knew they should.

He wiggled his fingers and he thought they responded—a little sluggish, but they moved. Check. Fingers moved. Now onto the wrist, he thought. It seemed that that was where some of the confusion set in. That body part didn’t want to cooperate. For some reason, his movement ended there. He gave up trying to figure it out—the thinking was just compounding his headache. Instead, he opened his eyes. Lady Morgana’s piercing green eyes stared back at him. He tried to ask what was going on, but his cottony dry mouth wasn’t working either and, from the looks of it, she wasn’t about ready to offer any assistance. He tried again and got out a croak of a question.

"What happened?" He raised his head a few inches, permitting a brief glance at himself. Apparently, he was secured, quite well by the looks of it, to whatever he was lying on. Something about his predicament rang a bell, but it still wasn’t connecting. Apparently, he was a few quarts low right now—mentally speaking.

"You have been resting, my pet, for the better part of three days, after a most eventful night," she said, smiling brightly.

His eyes widened briefly, but she continued. "I have just been informed that we shall have some guests tomorrow and I wanted to make sure that you would be prepared to join us for this special occasion. How are you feeling?"

O’Neill tried unsuccessfully to moisten his lips, croaking out a one-word answer. "Confused."

"I can understand that. You’ve been through quite an ordeal."

He tried glancing down the length of his body once again, but wasn’t able to get his head off the slab. He was tired.

"Why?" he mumbled. Lady Morgana got the gist of his question, her hands still caressing his head.

"You were not as cooperative as I would have liked, but that...changed as the evening progressed. I have new clothes and some water for you if you like."

He nodded as best he could. Things were still pretty hazy, but water sounded like a good idea. She stood and paced around to the other side of the table and pressed a few controls. The restraints melted back into the table and, less than a minute later, she was helping him sit up. The room spun and he had to close his eyes to settle his stomach. A few minutes passed and he felt a cup being pressed into his hand. He gripped it weakly, almost dropping it. Lady Morgana’s fingers closed over his and she helped him bring the cup to his mouth. He started gulping the water, but she pulled it back with a quiet warning, "Slowly, my pet. Slowly. You are weak and need every drop, but you must take it slow."

He nodded his understanding, keeping his eyes half-closed. It was easier to focus that way. It cut down the double images to just three or so. Everything hurt, but for some reason, he wasn’t surprised.

She tipped the cup up against his lips again and he took a few more sips before she pulled it away. This time he didn’t protest.

"Now, let’s get you cleaned up a little bit. We can’t have you meeting our guests covered in blood, now can we?" He gazed at her, his brown eyes hazy and unfocused. His brain was still on vacation. "My pet, can you stand?"

He nodded half-heartedly, but found himself in a pile at her feet only seconds after she helped him off the table, with no recollection of how he got there. Intense pains ripped through his body, his muscles stiff and tense. He groaned and clutched his abdomen. He didn’t see Morgana’s eyes flash in anger.

"Turlough," she called, and moments later, a tall figure entered the room.

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Please take him to the bath chamber on this level and prepare him. Destroy his clothes and bring me the metal he wears around his neck," she ordered, stepping carefully around the prone and moaning figure at her feet.

"Yes, my Lady," Turlough said, inclining his head in submission.

She turned just as she reached the door. "Be careful with him. He is still feeling the effects of our session. While the broken bones are most likely healed, the contusions and trauma to his body were extensive. While you wait, make sure he continues to drink the water I provided him, but I warn you, do not drink it yourself."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Turlough bowed deeply to his Mistress, his Lord’s wife, and his high priestess. Whatever she willed, would be done. "Yes, my Lady."

A swish of fabric against the door and she was gone. Turlough turned to the man lying on the floor before him—curled up in a fetal position and barely conscious. He gently touched a shoulder and the man jerked awake. His eyes flew open, but were unfocused.

"O’Neill, I must move you to the bathing chamber. This will be painful."

A moment passed before a soft reply was heard. "Yeah, I know. But, oh God, it hurts."

O’Neill was far more lucid than Turlough had thought possible. All other men had been far gone by this time, barely sane. This one was different, just as Lady Morgana had said on the evening of Samhain, the night of the feast. "Can you walk?"

Again, several moments passed before O’Neill replied. "I...I...don’t know. Can try," he whispered. Sweat dotted his brow up near the hairline, glistening against his waxy skin.

Turlough leaned down to grasp O’Neill under his left arm and helped lever him up. O’Neill swayed dangerously on his feet, his already pale skin getting whiter by the minute. Turlough quickly swept his arm around the older warrior, steadying him. "Are you able to walk?"

"Oh yeah, just peachy," O’Neill stated, breathless. His eyelids were clamped tightly together, the crease in his forehead deep. "Let’s go, before I can’t move."

Turlough walked slowly, supporting the man at his side and guiding him down the hall, past the dungeon that had become O’Neill’s home.

Nearly fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the end of the short hallway and Turlough eased O’Neill down to rest with his back against the stone wall, just inside the door. Turlough moved quickly to the sunken stone tub turning the valves to allow water to flow. It wasn’t hot—lukewarm at best, Turlough realized. It was better than nothing.

He glanced back to O’Neill, who was still sitting upright against the wall, although he was sweating and his hands were shaking. O’Neill was awake, though Turlough didn’t know how. O’Neill glanced up at him through half-closed eyes.

"Sorry about your outfit," O’Neill mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Turlough glanced down at himself, noticing the blood stains on his tunic for the first time. "It will wash," was all he said before he knelt down in front of the trembling man. "I must get you undressed and into the bath. Will you allow me to help you?"

To Turlough’s surprise, a wry smile appeared on the warrior’s face before him and a chuckle found its way to his throat. Apparently, O’Neill’s mental functions were returning. "Didn’t think we were that close, but it’s not like I have much choice in the matter."

"No, you do not," Turlough agreed, offering a hesitant smile in return. "I have seen others before you and I am obligated to offer you this courtesy, warrior to warrior."

O’Neill raised his head, squinting to focus his eyes on Turlough’s face. "Mano a mano, huh?" When he saw Turlough’s confused expression, he continued with an exasperated sigh. "Never mind. ‘preciate the thought, though." O’Neill closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. To Turlough it seemed as if O’Neill drew on some deep well of inner strength, for when he opened his eyes a few moments later, a small glimmer of something—strength, power, intensity—could be seen. Exactly what it was that Turlough saw, he couldn’t be sure. While the sweating and shaking had stopped, Turlough knew O’Neill was far from recovered.

"Would it be possible to get some room service in this place?"

This warrior—this stranger from a distant planet—was unlike anyone he had ever known. Room service? Turlough thought, but realized the context as O’Neill tried to moisten his dry cracking lips.

"Of course. Lady Morgana left some refreshment for you and I have been instructed to see that you partake of it." Turlough rose quickly, stepping over to the sideboard where a pitcher and glass sat. Pouring a tumbler-full of the liquid—a weak tea of sorts—he knelt once again next to O’Neill and helped him drink deeply from the glass.

Once O’Neill’s thirst was quenched, O’Neill rested his head against the wall with a satisfied smile on his face. "Oh, that was good."

"It should be. Lady Morgana prepared it especially for you."

"What?" O’Neill’s eyes opened quickly, finding Turlough’s face. This time those brown eyes were focused, searching out information.

"Yes. They contain some herbs to aid in your recovery. You must be well enough to attend the gathering tomorrow. She has ordered it."

"Has she now?" O’Neill asked, but Turlough knew he wasn’t expecting an answer. Turlough glanced back at the stone tub, noticing the water was nearly deep enough.

"O’Neill, I have clean clothes for you but I must bathe you and try to clean some of your wounds. Will you permit me? The bath is ready."

O’Neill looked like he was going to protest, but a few moments passed and he nodded his head, accepting the offer. "Sure. What have I got to lose at this point?" He leaned forward and tried to pull his shirt over his head, but ended up moaning in pain as his bruises made themselves known. "Oh...damn, that hurts," he muttered.

"Let me, O’Neill," Turlough said, moving closer to grasp the hem of O’Neill’s shirt in his hands. He carefully guided the garment off the Colonel’s aching body with only a few muttered curses on the part of O’Neill. "That wasn’t so bad," Turlough said, dropping the bloodied shirt in a heap and turning to close the valve on the tub.

"Sure it wasn’t—for you," O’Neill said, his teeth firmly fixed on his bottom lip. If he bit down any harder, Turlough was sure O’Neill would break the skin.

"I must remove the rest of your clothing before you can relax in the bath. You are only prolonging the process."

"I know, I know," O’Neill said, absently rubbing a hand across his face. "Get on with it already."

Working quickly and carefully, Turlough was able to remove the remainder of O’Neill’s tattered clothing with a minimum of comments from O’Neill. At one point Turlough thought O’Neill had passed out again, but one glare from the pain-filled brown eyes was enough to convince Turlough to hurry.

He couldn’t remove the hostage chain—only Lady Morgana could—so when he was done with the clothes, he carefully helped O’Neill to the sunken tub and eased him into the lukewarm water. As his limbs became weightless in the water, an expression of contentment and peace passed quickly across O’Neill’s face. His sigh of relief echoed throughout the small room.

Leaning with his head against the side of the tub, O’Neill opened an eye to look at Turlough. "Can you give me a minute before you start anything?"  
"Certainly. Do you require another drink?"

"Only if you can find me a cold beer."

Turlough frowned. "I do not know of this beer to which you refer. Would you prefer more of the tea Lady Morgana left you?"

O’Neill sighed, his eye sliding shut once again. "Sure. That’ll be fine."

Turlough moved to the sideboard, but O’Neill’s voice stopped him mid-pour. "What does she want with me?"

He turned back and found O’Neill looking directly at him, his brown eyes lucid and penetrating. The lines on his face were deep, etched with pain and exhaustion. His skin was pale and his eye sockets dark and sunken, but the eyes, the eyes were clear and as hard as the stones around them.

Turlough turned back to his task, choosing his words carefully. "The truth."

"What truth?" O’Neill huffed.

"Lady Morgana is only trying to aid her people." He turned back to O’Neill, a now-full glass in hand.

"But, what does she want with me?"

Turlough handed him the glass and watched him drink deeply, finishing the tumbler in one swift swallow. "She wants your expertise. She admires your strength, your loyalty, your freedom, your—"

"Freedom?"

"Yes." Turlough sat down with his legs crossed beside the tub’s ledge.

"Why does she admire my freedom? Isn’t she free?"

"Not in the true sense of the word, O’Neill. She is tied to the land, to this people. She is our high priestess and she will forever lead us and guide us. You have seen things and experienced things others can only imagine. She desires this knowledge to guide her people as we enter the new phase of our life journey."

"Why can’t your beloved Lord do this for her?" Turlough could feel the disgust and displeasure dripping from O’Neill’s words.

"He has not traveled through the stone portal. You have."

"Okay, I’ll give you that, but what’s stopping her from using it?"

"She has tried," admitted Turlough with a half-shrug. "But was...unsuccessful. She lay unconscious for two nights after she tried to access the portal."

"Unconscious? How? Did she try to hot-wire the DHD?"

"She but touched the device standing before the stone ring and it rendered her unconscious. No one will go near it—even the welcoming parties will not touch it."

"Go figure," O’Neill muttered, his eyelids starting to droop.

"Let me clean you and get you dressed and your cuts bandaged. Then you can rest," Turlough said, reaching for a bar of soap and a cloth.

"Fine," O’Neill said, leaning his head back and letting his eyes close. It was apparent that Lady Morgana’s tea was working. If he didn’t hurry, O’Neill would be asleep before he finished—a dead weight. At least now he would get some help from the man himself. Even though he was weak, it was something.

"This will hurt."

"I know. Just do it."

"Very well," Turlough said and got to work. He worked quickly, efficiently, but by the time Turlough was finished with O’Neill—washed, dried, dressed, and bandaged—O’Neill was barely able to keep his eyes open. The tea was working too well, Turlough thought as he watched the warrior try to keep his head from drooping onto his chest.

"O’Neill, I must move you once again."

"Huh?" O’Neill asked, trying to pry his eyelids open. What Turlough could see of O’Neill’s eyes were unfocused and clouded.

"I must move you to the other room. Can you walk?"

"Sure. Course I can," came the reply a few beats later as he made a half-hearted attempt to rise to his feet. Turlough’s grip under O’Neill’s arm was the only thing that kept him from falling over. Snaking an arm around O’Neill’s shoulders, Turlough edged him back down the hallway to the small dungeon room that had become his home. A straw mat had been laid on the floor along the rear wall and a woolen blanket was folded at one end. Turlough eased O’Neill down on the mat and arranged the blanket over the shivering form. O’Neill was asleep before his head touched the mat.

Turlough deftly lifted the metal tags from around O’Neill’s neck and concealed the handful of shiny metal in a pocket.

After clipping the end of the hostage chain to the hook on the wall, Turlough moved to collect a secondary water pitcher and glass from the bathing chamber and placed them within reach in case O’Neill woke during the night and needed something to quench his thirst.

This warrior was unique and it pained Turlough to see him in such a state. However, whatever his Lady willed, it would be done—even if it involved the death of one stubborn warrior.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Lady Morgana was combing out her long red hair when there was a soft tap at her door. She was expecting the sound, and instead of turning, simply called out. "Come."

She heard, rather than saw, Turlough shuffle into her suite of rooms. He came to a stop several feet from her, unsure what to do. When he remained silent, she knew that she would have to coax him to speak up. She stopped her nightly routine and turned to her faithful servant, eyeing him carefully. She had told him to report to her immediately upon finishing his task with O’Neill and he had apparently taken her words literally, not even stopping to change from his blood stained and damp garments.

These people needed her guidance and direction badly. If she weren’t here to guide and protect them, who knew how backward they would have become. They barely understood the concepts of respect and honor and the importance of personal appearance. When approaching people, such as herself, they needed to have respect and honor which should have been reflected in their clothing and their appearance. She sighedsoftly. Would they ever learn?

"Turlough, did you do what I asked of you?"

"Yes, my Lady," Turlough said, bowing slightly. At least he remembered his manners. "My Lady, I have disposed of his clothing as you requested and I have brought you the metal chain O’Neill wore around his neck."

She nodded her assent, allowing Turlough to approach. He lightly dropped the chain and tags into her outstretched hand. She examined them briefly before turning her gaze back to

Turlough, who had stepped back to a more respectable distance.

"Very good, Turlough. How is he?"

"He is sleeping, my Lady. He was very cooperative with my ministrations this night."

"Good." She turned back to the mirror before her and picked up her comb once again. "Turlough. Please make yourself available in the morning. I have an assignment for you."

"Yes, my Lady," Turlough said, bowing deeply. "Good night, my Lady. May you have pleasant dreams."

The sound of Turlough’s retreating footsteps and the click of the closing door brought a smile to Morgana’s face. She was close. She was very close. Turlough’s report had convinced her. It wouldn’t be long until she started calling O’Neill her beloved.


	5. Chapter Five

Daniel Jackson walked into the embarkation room wearing his drab green field BDUs and carrying his open field pack. It was stuffed to the brim—too full to be closed with anything close to precision.

He was grateful to the Museum Company in this instance, since he had managed to find some unique Celtic broaches and jewelry to bring to Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. Usually, he just discarded whatever he found there out of hand, considering it as merely refuse—why settle for a cheap reproduction when you can have the real thing, he always contested.

For this occasion, however, cheap imitations—even at these prices—were the perfect gift for some misplaced Celtic priestesses and lords. So what if they were mass-manufactured, it was the thought that really counted. Besides, they’d never know—and he’d never tell.

In addition to the gift boxes, Daniel was determined to bring some reference books with him. He hadn’t caught up on his reading for this trip and he could use the opportunity to brush up on his knowledge of Celtic beliefs and customs—especially since everyone expected him to know just what to say.

His job was a lot tougher than it looked—having to converse with representatives of various races and cultures—thankfully not at the same time—without accidentally hitting on some taboo subject. Granted, he’d gotten the hang of the Texas two-step over the past few years—dancing around the sensitive areas when he stumbled across them—partially thanks to his badly broken speech.

Alien languages made Earth-based languages look like a walk in the park, Daniel thought wryly.

But, I digress, Daniel thought, as he knelt at the base of the Stargate ramp, trying for the fourth time to rearrange his pack in some semblance of order—stuffing the books, the gifts, and all his supplies into the bag. Years ago, he hadn’t been able to comprehend the reason for actually carrying all this stuff on his back—now he couldn’t carry enough.

He glanced up quickly toward the control room. It was still empty this early in the morning, with only Graham Simmons monitoring the controls. General Hammond hadn’t made his appearance yet either. Casting a quick glance at his watch, he noted that he was early—very early by his standards—he still had fifteen minutes.

Just as he began musing about taking a quick jaunt back down to his lab to grab another book and an extra chocolate bar, Sam Carter walked in with Major Paul Davis, the Pentagon’s liaison to the SGC, chatting up a storm.

From Daniel’s perspective, it seemed like Sam was trying to bring Paul up to speed on the mission objectives. Why Sam was doing it now, Daniel wasn’t sure. Usually General Hammond gave very complete briefing notes, especially when it involved an off-world mission. With everything going on, Daniel was positive that Davis had probably gotten a more complete briefing than they had. Oh well. Either way it didn’t matter. It was better late than never, Daniel thought, vaguely realizing that Paul must have flown into Colorado this morning. At least someone had been up earlier than him.

A few steps behind them, Major Stan Kovachek strode in—a pack in his hand and a chip on his shoulder. Major Kovachek was responsible for the treaty itself—getting it arranged and making sure all parties were in agreement. For this mission, however, Sam was in charge. Major Kovachek wasn’t happy—and had expressed his displeasure quite loudly last night—but was willing to follow General Hammond’s commands, even though he didn’t agree with the orders.

You’ve got to love the military mind, Daniel thought. Blind obedience was something he’d never understood. Maybe that was why he’d never joined the military when they were recruiting—or it could have been the fact that he was probably out of the country at one dig or another. Why he was in the military now was beyond him.

Why are you kidding yourself? Daniel’s mind retorted. They had you—actually Catherine had you—hook, line, and sinker as soon as you set your beady little eyes on that cover stone all those years ago.

Daniel shook his head in an effort to clear his mind and stood up to greet the rest of the team.

He could tell Sam was a little nervous about the mission. She was keeping up a pretty continuous monologue about Meath and SG1’s previous mission—which in itself would be quite normal since Paul needed to be kept in the loop—but her words were rushed and her hand gestures broader than they usually were. Plus, after every few gestures, Daniel observed her trying to unobtrusively wipe an obviously sweaty hand on the back of her fatigue pants.

Daniel put what he hoped was a supportive and non-threatening smile on his face and broke into Sam’s dissertation. "Hey, Sam, Paul. You all ready?"

Sam and Paul Davis had stopped just a few feet shy of where Daniel’s backpack was doing a very good impression of Mount Vesuvius. Paul leaned forward, offering Daniel his hand in greeting, which Daniel shook warmly, while at the same time flashing Paul a welcoming smile. As cautious and "by-the-book" as Paul had been over the years, Daniel had developed a certain respect for the man. It was hard enough to work for the military, let alone having to worry about what the Pentagon and the Joint Chiefs had to say about everything that happened halfway across the country—and in this case, the other side of the galaxy.

"I think so, Daniel." Sam aimed a glance at the over-stuffed pack resting at his feet. She sent an amused smile his way. "Do you have enough stuff?"

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest and matched Sam’s smile with an embarrassed one of his own. "I hope so. I’d hate to have to hike all the way back to the gate just to get a book."

Daniel didn’t think it possible, but Sam grinned even wider. "Amen to that. It’s bad enough that we have a two hour journey ahead of us as is."

"I know. I was just considering running back down to my lab to grab one other book."

Sam looked quickly at her field watch, checking the time and glanced up at the control room. Daniel followedher gaze upward and found the control room still empty except for Simmons. "You have time if you want to go. If you need help looking, I can take a walk with you, as long as you tell me what it is I’m looking for."

A weird feeling passed over Daniel, but he shook it off. "That’s okay, Sam. I don’t think I really have to run down there, but thanks for the offer."

"Okay, Daniel, but I don’t want to hear it later," Sam said, trying to keep her tone light and joking, instead her tone fell flat in the uneasy silence left between them.

Tension filled the air, buzzing just beneath the surface, and it was all coming from the direction of one hovering Major. While Major Kovachek was part of the team for this mission, he had been a little standoffish during the pre-mission briefing, in the infirmary during the pre-mission medical check, and even later in the locker room when they were getting ready. If Major Kovachek’s attitude was going to cause a problem, Daniel was sure that Sam would address it here and now—before they left the planet. Sam wasn’t one to beat around the bush and she was used to speaking her mind, so Daniel wasn’t surprised when she brought up the subject a few minutes later.

"Major, I know you were not happy with the choice of commander for this mission, but I want to reassure you that I won’t step on your toes during the negotiations. SG1 was never meant to be a diplomatic team. We’re strictly first contact and reconnaissance. I just need your assurance that, until the negotiations begin, you will trust in my abilities to lead this team safely to Meath and to judge the situation there." She glanced at Major Davis, who offered her an encouraging nod before she continued. "While Major Davis is part of the Air Force, he has not been part of a front line unit in many years. Daniel, on the other hand, has plenty of experience in the field, but is not militarily trained. I need to be able to rely on you if something happens. Can I?"

Daniel was sure that if the solider could look remorseful, Kovachek would have. Once Sam had started speaking, the Major had quickly found that his bootlaces were very interesting. Even now that Sam was finished and waiting for Kovachek’s answer, he couldn’t meet her steely gaze.

"Major Carter, please believe me when I tell you that my...disagreement with General Hammond was never an insult aimed at you or your abilities to command." Kovachek chanced a quick glance at Sam, trying to see if she was actually listening. She was—very intently—causing Kovachek to drop his gaze once again. "I was merely expressing about having only one diplomat on this mission, especially since this is both a much needed and highly desired alliance for the SGC. At the time...I felt that in light of the situation it might be best to have a diplomat in charge. General Hammond was considerate enough to explain the entire situation to me."

Daniel knew that Kovachek was walking on thin ice—Sam, while patient never liked double-talk—but so far, Kovachek was doing well. He hadn’t insulted Sam directly, yet. I guess that’s why he’s the professional diplomat, Daniel snickered to himself.

Daniel looked at Sam, noting her stiff back and the tension in her face and shoulders. While she wore a calm expression on her face, trying to show that she was open to Kovachek’s comments, Daniel knew that she wasn’t a happy camper. Kovachek had waltzed around her question with the greatest of ease.

"Major Kovachek, before you even set foot on that ramp," Sam said, gesturing to the metal structure before them. "I need to know that I can rely on your training and your expertise if the situation turns on us. Do I have that assurance?" Sam’s voice was like steel.

Kovachek swallowed before answering, his tone meek. "Yes, Major. You can rely on me."

"Thank you. That was all I needed."

A thick, stifling silence descended on the gateroom as they waited for General Hammond. Each member of SG1 found a different part of the gate room fascinating, everyone trying their best not to make eye contact. Minutes passed before Daniel inched up to Sam and leaned into her, speaking softly. "You were a little rough on him, don’t you think?"

Sam sent a surprised glance his way but answered in an equally quiet voice. "Yeah, I know." Daniel saw apprehension in her eyes. "I’m just worried. I didn’t mean to take it out on him."

"You might want to tell him that."

Sam glanced over at Major Kovachek, who was now intently scrutinizing his fingernails.

"Damn," Sam swore softly.

"Yeah, I know."

"I should talk to him."

"Probably be a good idea."

Sam sighed deeply, rubbing a hand through her short blond hair, ruffling it slightly. Her blue eyes were intense, showing clearly the battle that was raging in her mind. Normally, there was never a question about Sam’s ability to command any situation, but for some reason, this time things were different. It was as if this whole mission had them on edge and, unfortunately, that meant that Kovachek got the short straw.

Sam knew intellectually that she had come down too hard on Kovachek and she had to straighten things out with him before they left. For a team to function effectively there had to be trust between all members. Forcing her will upon a team member didn’t exactly make for a very solid foundation—especially at the beginning of what could very well be a long and complicated relationship. Treaty negotiations were never easy in the best of times and were typically even more convoluted when it involved people from other planets entirely.

Her emotional side had other thoughts on the matter, however. Daniel was sure that if Kovachek walked naked into an incoming wormhole she wouldn’t have cared in the least. He could almost hear the thoughts running through Sam’s head, because they were the same ones he had had when he heard the ruckus last night. Where did he get the nerve to go over her head to General Hammond? It was astonishing to Daniel that a diplomat, who was supposed to be tolerant of others, would even begin to imply that Sam was incapable or unable to perform her duties.

Unless the grapevine in the mountain was faster than usual, Daniel thought. News about SG1 usually traveled quickly, especially when something happened. News of SG1 finding an imaginary race of people or under possible alien influence was a hot topic any day of the week.

Daniel watched the battle rage in her eyes for a few moments before she nodded her head. "Yeah." Sam glanced up, watching Kovachek carefully as he tried unsuccessfully to blend into the concrete wall behind him. "Major?" Sam said. As Kovachek’s head shot up, Daniel had a quick mental image that was a cross between a deer in headlights and a lamb being led to the slaughter. Not a pretty picture.

"Sam..." Daniel said, his tone warning her that she was still coming on a little strong.

Sam glanced at Daniel quickly, exasperation on her face, but realized he was right. She took a deep breath and started again. "Major Kovachek, can I have a word with you for a minute?"

"Sure, Major," Kovachek said, stepping forward.

Sam looked around quickly and realized that she didn’t want an audience for this. She gestured for Kovachek to follow her as she walked toward the door to the gateroom. "Let’s step into the hall for a minute."

Sam stepped through, with Kovachek following meekly behind her, leaving Daniel and Paul Davis to stare at the remnants of Daniel’s overflowing backpack. Paul broke the silence a few seconds later.

"You know, Daniel, you’re never going fit all that in there."

Daniel looked up, catching the spark of laughter in Paul’s dark eyes. "Yeah, I know," Daniel said, conceding the point with a shrug of his shoulders. "But I really can’t afford to leave any of it behind."

"Why?" Paul asked, dropping his own pack next to a now kneeling Daniel.

"I’d just rather be on the safe side. Besides, it’s not like it’s a short trip back to the gate if I do forget something," Daniel said, trying to make some sense out of his backpack before General Hammond made his appearance.

Paul reached over and grabbed some of the books from Daniel’s hand. "Here, let me take these."

"Paul, you don’t have to do that. I’ll manage." Daniel’s voice held a note of warning, but Paul pointedly ignored it. Daniel didn’t like to be coddled—never had, even as a child. He was accustomed to fending for himself, taking care of himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust anyone, he just wanted things done in a particular way...and he didn’t trust anyone else to do it the way he wanted it done.

Ever since he’d joined the Stargate program, he had gotten a lot of attention from everyone—the way people deferred to him for an opinion; the "can we help you carry that back to your lab?" from men who were twice his age; the protection off-world. It could get suffocating at times, especially when Sam and Teal’c were in one of their "mother hen" moods—but that usually only happened after he had managed to injure himself.

"Daniel," Paul said, looking Daniel in the eyes, "there is physically no way all of this will fit into your pack. How many times have you tried?"

Breaking eye contact, Daniel shifted his gaze back down to the boxes in his hands and the pack lying in front of him. "This would be the fifth or sixth time."

"So, what’s the problem with a little assistance?" Paul asked, neatly packing the books he had snatched from Daniel’s hands into his own pack.

"Nothing, I guess," Daniel mumbled, shifting a few items in the pack to fit one of the gift boxes. "Thanks," he added. The words were so quiet they barely left his mouth, although Paul heard them loud and clear.

"You’re welcome." A few more seconds of silence passed before Paul spoke again, his words accompanied by a perplexed expression on his face. "What is it about this planet that has you and Carter so jumpy?" Paul snagged another item from the pile on the floor, much to Daniel’s dismay. Daniel sighed deeply, knowing it was pointless to argue with him as Paul continued to pilfer articles from Daniel’s pile.

"I don’t know what you mean," Daniel said, glancing up quickly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew exactly what Paul was talking about—he just didn’t think...he had hoped...and prayed...that he and Sam hadn’t been so obvious about it. Besides, it wasn’t something he really wanted to talk about—especially not just before they were leaving. If General Hammond got wind of what was really going through his mind, he’d be back in his lab so quickly his head wouldn’t catch up with him for weeks. And to top it all off, he’d probably never set foot anywhere near the Gateroom for the rest of his life. Not an option he was willing to consider.

"I mean, Carter has been talking my ear off since I set foot in the mountain this morning. She’s normally a little more...reserved. And add that to the fact that she nearly ripped Major Kovachek a new body orifice this morning..." Paul said, leaning back on his heels while his eyes locked with Daniel’s. "You, on the other hand, while maintaining your normally calm and professional exterior, have decided to pack your entire office in your backpack."

Daniel shrugged noncommittally, fitting another item into his bag. "We’ve just been under a little stress lately, that’s all."

"Stress?" Paul asked. Daniel could tell that Paul wasn’t buying that answer any more than if Daniel had told him that there was some type of winged pig hovering just above his head.

"Yes, stress," Daniel said, his voice firm. "It isn’t every day that we get the opportunity to make an alliance with a new race. We just want to make sure that everything goes smoothly."

"Smoothly?" Paul huffed in disbelief, glancing around the gate room once again. To Daniel it looked like he was trying to put his thoughts in order and, at this point, Daniel was sure he wasn’t going to like what Paul had to say. "Daniel, I’m trying to say this as a friend. Both you and Carter aren’t looking like the flagship SG team we’re used to seeing. It’s painfully obvious to all of us that there’s a big problem, but you just can’t see it. You know, if Colonel O’Neill was here—"

"Well, he’s not here. And in any case, we have everything under control," Daniel said, abruptly cutting Paul off and stuffing the last item into his bag and zipping it closed.

"Daniel," Paul said as he grabbed Daniel’s shoulder and turned him, forcing Daniel to look at him.

"What?" Daniel said, defensive.

Paul’s eyes flashed angrily, his mouth set in a thin, tight line. "What’s really going on here? What the hell happened to you on that planet?"

Daniel closed his eyes in resignation, his arms going limp at his sides. "Paul, I don’t know. We went, we met the natives, we attended a nice dinner party, found that they were friendly and willing to share their knowledge and forge an alliance, and then we got back here and all hell broke loose."

Daniel’s blue eyes bored into Paul’s with an intensity and determination that was startling. "Paul, there’s something going on over there and I need to find out what they did to us. When Colonel Yearwood returned with SG5, Dr. Fraiser found a trace chemical in their bloodstream that could have something to do with why we seemed to have...suffered from some...memory problems."

"Memory problems?"

Daniel cringed slightly at Paul’s tone of disbelief, although it was better than having him angry—at least he was listening. "Apparently...all of SG1...well, at least Sam, Teal’c, and I, seem to forgotten...that we have a fourth. At the very least, we seem to have left him behind on the planet somewhere...at least that’s what they’ve been telling us."

"You what?" Paul’s eyes were just about ready to pop out of their sockets. In the back of his mind, Daniel vaguely wondered what that would be like. If Paul’s eyes did pop out of their sockets that might be kind of cool. Wondering where that morbid thought came from, Daniel shook his head before he continued.

"And if that wasn’t bad enough, when SG5 went back to check out our story, they didn’t find any signs of civilization whatsoever, which made things a look a little worse for us than they originally had. It seems that the native population has the ability to block out selective memories from our consciousness. In the case of SG1, it appears that it was the memory of Colonel O’Neill. For SG5, it was their entire race—that is if they even looked for them in the first place," Daniel said, standing up before his legs cramped up on him.

Paul’s eyes were still wide in shock as he rose to stand beside Daniel. "And we’re going back to make an alliance with these people?"

Daniel waved his hands emphatically, his tone passionate. "Paul, these people could be a powerful ally in our fight against the Goa’uld. They were capable of fighting and defeating the Goa’uld and the Goa’uld haven’t returned. We need to know what they know. This might be the race that helps us turn the tide in the war against the Goa’uld. How can we turn our backs on that?"

"But, Daniel, if they have the ability to block memories, do they have the ability to add memories to your mind as well?" Paul spoke cautiously, choosing each word carefully. "Could everything you saw on that planet be just a figment of your imagination, merely suggestions planted in your mind by a powerful alien?"

Daniel pulled off his glasses to rub his free hand across his eyes. "Paul, you have no idea how many times I’ve kicked myself for forgetting to bring along my digital recorder the last time. At least if I had a picture of what we saw, I would have some kind of visual confirmation that what I’m saying was true."

"Do you have it this time?"

"Yeah, plus five extra blank memory cards and four sets of extra batteries. I’m going to document everything." Daniel offered a weak smile.

Paul chuckled quietly. "I think you may have it covered." An easy, contemplative silence fell between them that Paul broke a few minutes later. "No wonder you’re stressed."

"Huh?" Daniel turned toward Paul, noticing the thoughtful expression on the other man’s face.

Paul looked up, smiling slightly. "No wonder you’re stressed. It’s difficult enough to prove to the military that you’re sane when you have doctors and scientific reports to support your side of the story. It’s next to near impossible trying to prove it when you have nothing but your word."

"So, that’s why General Hammond’s been looking constipated," Daniel said, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"Yeah, probably," Paul said, as a laugh found its way to his throat.

Daniel and Paul were laughing heartily when Sam and Major Kovachek walked back into the gate room, moving to stand at the base of the metal ramp beside the chortling men.

"So...what’s so funny?" Sam asked, looking back and forth between Paul and Daniel, trying to figure it out. Her clear blue eyes searched Daniel’s face for an answer that wasn’t forthcoming.

"Nothing, Sam," Daniel said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye with his hand. He was fitting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose when General Hammond’s voice echoed throughout the gateroom.

"SG1, are you ready to embark?" Hammond said stiffly, causing Paul and Daniel to glance at each other conspiratorially.

Sam’s eyes narrowed slightly, catching the look between the two men. "Yes, sir. We’re ready to depart," she answered Hammond.

The inner ring of the Stargate starting spinning seconds later and the group started prepping themselves for the journey to the other side. Every now and then, an absent chuckle would emerge from Paul or Daniel as they shrugged their packs over their shoulders. Daniel’s, while lighter than it had been originally, was still considerably loaded down. He was grateful that Paul had packed several of the heavier items in his own bag and made a mental note to himself to make sure he thanked Paul as soon as they had a private moment.

Sam eventually managed to catch Daniel’s eye and a silent communication passed between them. Daniel shook his head at the questioning look Sam sent his way, adding the mouthed words "later" as an afterthought.

Making a face of displeasure, Sam nodded reluctantly.

"Major Carter, I expect to see you back here in three days’ time. If you need more time, we can decide then what our course of action will be," Hammond said, his voice echoing strangely off the hard concrete and metal surfaces of the gateroom.

The ka-whoosh of the opening wormhole prompted the team to take their positions on the ramp, waiting for Sam who had turned to acknowledge the General’s order. "Yes, sir. If Lord Kentigern is anything like he was when we were there last, we shouldn’t need any more time than what you’ve already allotted us, sir."

"Very well, Major. God speed."

"Thank you, sir." Sam turned back to the open wormhole, the blue and white light glinting off her face. She eyeballed each member of the group and offered a smile. "Well, if we’re ready to go, let’s get a move on. There’s no time like the present."

*~*~*~*~*~*

At least this time, it wasn’t raining, Sam Carter thought, picking her way across the rocky ground to stand next to the DHD and wait for the rest of her team to emerge from the open wormhole.

Her blue eyes scanned the horizon, noting the lush vegetation, the varied shades of green with hints of color dotting the landscape. Winged creatures soared high above, circling, welcoming the travelers with their cries before they moved on, deeper into the valley and forests below. There were no gray mists to obscure her vision and for that she was grateful.

Sam took a long deep breath of the crisp air and felt some of the tension leave her body. She’d finally gotten back to the planet where everything had started. Maybe that meant she would finally get answers to the questions that were running through her mind—questions that were in desperate need of answers.

At the very least, she was pleased. She’d had a good conversation with Major Kovachek before they left and things seemed to be better—not great, but better. At least she didn’t have to worry that Kovachek would second-guess her commands during the mission. If something did happen while they were here, the last thing she wanted to worry about was someone getting injured or killed because he couldn’t obey a simple order.

Hearing the gate discharge an object—a person in this instance—Sam glanced back and watched as Daniel walked across the open track toward her, his eyes firmly fixed on the ground beneath his feet—oblivious to his surroundings. When it came to Daniel, you couldn’t teach him new tricks—and God knows, she’d tried. While she stood at attention, her weapon aimed at the wooded area beyond, her eyes constantly scrutinizing the perimeter; Daniel only glanced up to judge the distance he still had to travel before he reached even ground.

Majors Kovachek and Davis stepped out of the wormhole side-by-side and, a few beats later, the gate closed with its usual snap-hiss behind them, the rock wall at their backs.

Kovachek and Davis, Cater noted, were immediately on guard, their eyes sweeping the trees before them, their weapons held at the ready. Assured they were doing their job, she turned her attention back to Daniel, who had finally reached the DHD and was trying to lean against it nonchalantly. The heavy backpack prevented his stance from being anything remotely casual. Sam was sure he was just using the DHD as a shelf, allowing the structure to hold up his pack and alleviate some of the pressure on his back. Sam was glad that she wasn’t in Daniel’s shoes this mission.

Glancing around once again, she voiced the question foremost in her mind. "Daniel, where is everybody? Do we just head out or are we supposed to wait and meet up with someone from the village?"

"Well," Daniel said, rubbing a hand through his short brown hair and gazing at the other two men approaching their position. He turned back to Sam to answer her, his eyes distant in thought. "Since it doesn’t look like there’s anyone here to greet us, I guess we can just make our way to the village. They know we’re coming. I wouldn’t be surprised to find Egan on the trail somewhere."

"That was my thought too, Daniel. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page," Sam said, nodding to Kovachek and Davis as they stopped before her. "Well, it looks like the welcoming party isn’t here yet, so we might as well get started. We have a good two hour walk to get to the village."

While Sam was speaking, Daniel had slid his pack off his shoulder and was digging around inside. Moments later his digital camcorder emerged and he zipped the pack shut, levering it up onto his back. "Sure, Sam. I just want to get started with some recording," Daniel said, pressing a few buttons on the camera’s side, his concentration fully engaged on the device.

"I’ll take point. Kovachek, I’d like you to take our six."

"Yes, Major," Kovachek said, gripping his P90 a little tighter.

"Major Davis, if you don’t mind, can you keep an eye on Daniel?" Sam asked the question with a smile, as they watched Daniel wander off to take some recordings of the Stargate itself.

"No problem, Major," Paul said smiling. "I’ll try to keep him in line, make sure he doesn’t stray too far."

"Let me tell you, that’s easier said than done. One of these days it might pay to put a leash on him or something," Sam said, her manner joking, but a strange shiver ran up her spine. Shaking off the feeling, she glanced around the clearing, watching as Daniel ambled around the area. "Daniel," she called, trying to get the archeologist’s attention.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming." Daniel’s distracted reply floated over the air. Daniel was aiming himself toward the ruins now, barely paying attention to the rocks beneath his feet. A few times, Sam was almost certain he was going to trip and injure himself.

"Daniel, at this rate you’re going to run out of space on that camera before you even get to the village," Sam said, gesturing for the rest of the team to follow her toward the path that led to Meath.

Daniel snapped off the recorder a minute later, after panning the camera slowly around the site. "That’s all I need right now. Are we ready to go?"

"Yes, Daniel," Sam said, her voice ever indulgent of his quirks, as she led the way into the forest.

Moments after Kovachek’s form disappeared into the undergrowth another figure emerged from the trees on the far side of the Stargate clearing. He gazed after the figures, but did not follow, instead choosing to turn back the way he had come.

A lone black bird circled overhead, making careful patterns in the sky.

*~*~*~*~*~*

For the first time in a very long time, Jack O’Neill was warm. Not the suffocating, unpleasant, sitting too close to the fire warm, but the comfortable curled up under a down comforter in bed on a winter morning warm.

He smiled to himself and burrowed back down under the covers and the heat they held. A few seconds passed, however, before his mind caught up with the sensations of his body. Once it did, his eyes flew open, taking in the dirt floor, the rough blanket covering him, the open door, and the pitcher sitting nearby.

He squinted through the dark, the only light from the torch burning brightly in the hallway beyond the door. He closed his eyes briefly, breathing deeply before opening them once again to be greeted by the same sights. It wasn’t his imagination. He was back in his cell with no recollection of how he got there.

He settled back down onto his makeshift bed, trying to think, trying to remember what had happened the night—and day—before. His last memory was of a bath sometime the night before, washing away the grime and the sweat.

Lifting the blanket, he glanced down toward his chest to confirm what he already knew—he was dressed in new clothes—even down to his undergarments. The reassuring weight of his dog tags was gone, as was the comfortable feeling of cotton next to his skin, replaced instead with a rougher fabric, less refined than what he was accustomed to. Vaguely he hoped that nothing chafed.

Dropping the blanket, he sighed deeply, rubbing his hands savagely across his eyes. His thumb and forefinger stopped briefly to squeeze the bridge of his nose as he tried to ease the throbbing pain in his head.

Things were so disjointed. He was weary, tired to the bone. He felt drained—of feeling, of strength, of will.

Memories kept flashing in and out—faces...words...kept coming back, echoing through his mind. Memories of pain—incredible pain—were the strongest. His body shivered as it recalled the sensations.

It would be so easy to give up, to turn over and go back to sleep, and later, to give in to Lady Morgana’s demands. Part of him wanted to. Part of him was ready.

His team had already given up on him. They’d come to their conclusions about him not long ago, realizing that the people who got close to O’Neill were the ones most likely to be hurt—or even killed. They’d started distancing themselves from him—especially after that whole NID undercover incident.

They had already begun to realize the things everyone else had figured out eventually—that they really didn’t need him. When it came to SG1, they already had a linguist/archeologist, a scientist, and a very capable warrior. What did they need him for? What had he done for them lately except manage to attract trouble to the group?

It was Daniel who figured out how to stop the ship from wiping out the Enkarans—even willing to go out on a limb and place his life on the line to find a solution to the problem. It was Daniel who perceived that the Eurondans were not to be trusted. When all was said and done, it was really Carter who discovered that the Zatarc was Martouf and saved the day—and the president’s life. It was Carter who found a "stupid idea" to defeat the Replicators. And where was he when Daniel, Carter, and Doc Fraiser were running around the planet in search of a missing Goa’uld? Fishing.

They didn’t need him. They never had. It had taken him this long to finally figure it out himself.

He couldn’t really blame General Hammond for giving up on him. What did the General need with a washed up, over the hill, set in his way Colonel who never listened to orders? Sure, he helped keep the base running as second in command, but any desk bound paper pusher could fill out the same forms he did—and they would probably do a much better job. Knowing Hammond, he had probably already listed him as missing in action, dotted the "I"s and crossed all the "T"s, filed all the paperwork in triplicate, and had written him off with barely a second thought.

He closed his eyes as the weariness settled into his bones.

But, out of that lassitude, a small spark emerged—barely an ember. O’Neill realized that he wasn’t finished. He wasn’t ready to stop fighting. Yes, he was tired, he admitted to himself, but that was no reason to give up.

As long as I’m alive, there’s always a chance. That had been his motto years ago, at the hands of other demented, psychotic madmen passing themselves off as respectable generals. He survived four months under their care—four months of his life spent rotting in an Iraqi hellhole that had come to be his home away from home.

If he didn’t give up then, why should he give up now?

Even if everyone was against him, why should he give up when there was still the possibility that he could escape—that he could return to his world and try to make a difference, try to make up for all the lives that had been lost on his account? Trying to survive was the least he could do.

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his breathing, gathering his strength. Several moments passed before he moved, sitting up slowly and carefully, the chain clinking behind him as he adjusted the blankets around his body. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself merely sore and aching, the pain infrequent and minor. From the bits and pieces he could remember from his last encounter with Lady Morgana, he had expected to be much worse off.

But, he was thirsty.

And there was a pitcher of something within reach.

After a moment of indecision, his eyes flicking quickly back and forth between the door and the pitcher, he reached out, his arm shaking with exertion, and lifted the pitcher to pour some of the liquid—a weak tea of sorts—into the glass. After spilling some of the precious liquid, he grabbed hold of the pitcher with both hands, slowly guiding it to the tumbler, the liquid finally reaching its goal.

Placing the pitcher back down before his trembling hands dropped it, he sat back, winded, his heart beating frantically. He was disgusted with himself for being so weak.

A few moments passed before he reached out again, this time to grasp the cool glass between his hands, bringing the tumbler to his mouth. Drinking deeply, he closed his eyes as the cool liquid washed away the dryness that had settled in this throat. As soon as the liquid hit his stomach, warmth spread through his middle, making him sigh in relief. He could feel his strength returning bit by bit.

In the back of his mind, a voice warned him to be careful. The voice warned him about the possibility that there was something in the water, but his thirst drowned out that tiny voice.

Putting the tumbler down, he reached for the pitcher again with both hands, pouring another glass full with arms and hands that were steadier than they had been moments before. It was sheer ecstasy to him as the liquid filled his mouth and cascaded down his throat bringing him that much needed relief. He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes, and leaning back against the stone wall.

His eyes flew open seconds later, when a soft voice resounded throughout the room.

"Are you feeling better, my love?"

He squinted through the darkness, trying to follow the sound of Lady Morgana’s voice. He cleared his throat, trying to reply. "What?" O’Neill asked, his voice rough and raspy.

Her shapely, graceful figure formed out of the darkness and settled down before him, her earth-colored dress flowing around her, pooling before him. Her auburn hair framed Lady Morgana’s face; her green eyes were firmly fixed on his chocolate brown eyes. Her hand caressed his cheek, her fingers brushing through the short hairs on his chin.

"It is good to see that you are better, my love," she said, gazing deeply into his eyes. Her close scrutiny was disconcerting and disquieting, but he couldn’t turn away. He knew this couldn’t be right—it shouldn’t be right—but her eyes were all that he saw, her green eyes piercing deep into his soul.

Her smile lit up his heart.

While he held her gaze, drowning in her luminescent eyes, the voice in the back of his mind was trying to issue a warning. Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger! The voice was screaming out the words in an effort to be heard over the rushing white noise that was quenching all of his thoughts.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see her lips moving, but he couldn’t make out the words. It was strange, he thought vaguely. He knew that he should be able to hear what she was saying—understand what she was saying—but her eyes were all encompassing—drowning out all of his other senses.

Vaguely, he realized that her hands were on either side of his face, rubbing his temples, easing the throbbing pain in his head, only to be replaced with a feeling of contentment and serenity.

A thick haze was falling over his mind, suffocating his sense of free will.

Part of him realized that she had to have put something in the tea—and he had had two full glasses on an empty stomach in a weakened state. Smart thing to do, O’Neill, his mind chided him, trying to fight for control.

But control was not to be had, at least in this instance.

When she removed her hands and leaned back, he almost surged forward, trying to maintain contact with the hands that had so lovingly held him moments before. That comforting presence had become so welcome, so needed.

"Shush, my love. I’m not going far. Would you like something to eat?" Her smile enveloped him, lighting the room and his soul.

O’Neill nodded his head slightly, without breaking eye contact. She was his world. There was nothing else that mattered.

"Good. Just sit there and I’ll get something for you. Can you remain still for me?"

He nodded quickly. He’d do anything to make her happy.

"Good," she smiled, getting up and moving toward the open door. "Turlough," she called from the doorway, the flickering light from the burning torch casting highlights and shadows on her face. Her eyes, though, never left O’Neill’s expectant face.

"Yes, my lady," O’Neill heard Turlough’s faint reply from the hallway.

"Please bring us some food to break our fast this morning."

"Yes, my lady. I shall bring it right away," Turlough said, his retreating footsteps indicating he was running to comply with Morgana’s request.

"See, my love, that was easy," she said, stepping back to sit before O’Neill on the pallet of blankets. He closed his eyes, leaning into her palm as she gently caressed his face.

A few moments passed before her hand slid down to finger the metal collar around his neck. She dropped her eyes to gaze at it, but quickly looked back up into O’Neill’s now open deep brown eyes. "Would you like me to remove this from you?" she asked, tapping a fingernail against the metal band.

O’Neill nodded his head slightly, clearing his throat to get the words out. "Yes...yes, my lady." Part of him cringed as the words left his mouth, but he knew that there was no other answer to be found.

Lady Morgana smiled widely at him, her green eyes glinting with an emotion he couldn’t read—wouldn’t read. "Very well, my love," she said, reaching with both hands to grasp the collar. A few seconds later a quiet click was heard and the collar dropped into her hands, the chain rattling behind him. She smiled at him. "Is that better?"

"Much better, my lady. Much better," he answered automatically, the real O’Neill shouting in his mind, railing against the brain-dead sycophant he had become.

She reached down and poured another glass of the tea from the pitcher on the floor. "Here, my love, drink more of this. It will help you to regain your strength."

Even though his mind howled at him to hurl the glass far away from him, to not take another sip, he watched in horror as his hands took the glass from her and he drank deeply from the tumbler, finishing it inone long swallow. O’Neill felt a wave of pleasure flow through him when she commended him, taking the glass from his hands. "Very good, my love."

A rustle of fabric against stone announced Turlough’s return with a tray full of food. Turlough placed the tray next to Lady Morgana and stepped back, awaiting her next order.

"Thank you, Turlough. Please make sure everything is in readiness for our guests. They should be here within the hour. Return to me here when they arrive."

"Yes, my lady. I will do as you ask." Turlough bowed, turning on his heel, and strode from the room, a man with a purpose.

Lady Morgana turned her attention back to O’Neill’s whose eyes had never left her face. "Are you hungry?"

He answered, although his voice was still hoarse from the cries and screams from the day before. "Yes, my lady."

"Good. Then let us eat something, so you can regain some of your strength. We have a long day ahead of us," Lady Morgana said, leaning down to put some butter on the still oven-warmed rolls.

His mind screamed at him to fight, to flee from her, but his body was not cooperating. While his mind tried to plan and scheme a way for him to escape this nightmare that had become his reality, his body—his own hand—accepted the roll from her. A feeling of intense pleasure rolled through his body and mind when she smiled at him, drowning out all other thoughts and senses.

His own voice spoke the words he never thought he would utter. "Thank you, my lady."

"There is no need for thanks, my love," she said, tenderly running her fingers through his hair. "You shall be my new beloved. How does that sound?"

"I look forward to it, my lady."

All he could see was her bright green eyes and her lovely, tender mouth turned upward in a smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Major Carter," Major Paul Davis said, breaking the silence that had settled over the group as they trekked through the forest toward Meath.

Sam glanced back quickly at the sound of her name and observed Davis stepping carefully over an overgrown tree root. Although this was a main path to and from the Stargate, it was obvious that it hadn’t seen much use over the past few hundred years. The trees and bushes had encroached on the trail, as was evidenced by the many tree limbs, roots, and vegetation that now littered the track.

"Are you sure that this is the right way to the village? We’ve been walking for hours," Davis said, his voice anxious.

"Actually, we’re making pretty good time compared to the last time we hiked to the village. When we were here before, we had to do this in the pouring rain," Daniel said, speaking up before Sam could answer the question. Daniel maneuvered himself around a rock that had managed to land in the middle of the path. He glanced up and smiled sheepishly. "But, you really didn’t need to know that, did you?"

Sam had slowed down, allowing the rest of the group to catch up so she didn’t have to yell. Why announce your presence when you didn’t have to?

She had to agree with Daniel that they were making good time and would probably make it to the village within the hour. From the look of the trail up ahead—much cleaner and better traveled—they were nearing civilization.

Sam was eager to get to their destination. Her shoulders ached from the constant stress of being on guard against a possible enemy. Her hands had not strayed far from her P90 while they walked. Her eyes darted back and forth, calculating possible hiding places—possible places where her team could be ambushed. She wouldn’t say that she was paranoid—just prepared for any possible situation.

Sam was also pleased to see that Major Kovachek was on guard as well, keeping on eye on their lovely backsides. He was doing a good job of it, too. Apparently, her little talk had made some kind of impression on him.

Daniel had been quiet for the majority of the hike, much to Sam’s amazement. Usually, Daniel was a never-ending source of chatter, but a comfortable silence had fallen on the group early in the hike, allowing everyone the opportunity to concentrate on the walk and the upcoming negotiations.

"Major Davis, we’ve only been walking for a little over an hour," she said, checking her watch, and turning back to look at the group. "Daniel, don’t you think it’s a little peculiar that we haven’t met anyone yet?"

Daniel shrugged. "No, I don’t think so, Sam. They could be on patrols in another area or maybe we just missed them somehow. I didn’t say exactly when we would be coming, just that we would be here today. Besides, at this point, it really shouldn’t matter since we’re only about a half-hour away from the village," Daniel said, huffing and puffing a little. They had started heading uphill and Sam was sure that the pack on Daniel’s back was getting heavier by the minute.

She glanced around at everyone, noting the tired faces, and made a quick decision. "You know, why don’t we take a quick breather? I could use a few minutes to catch my breath before we get to Meath. Besides, I’d rather make a good first impression. What do you think?"

Daniel perked up immediately. "Sounds good, Sam."

"Major Davis? Major Kovachek? What do you think?" Sam asked, stopping in the middle of the trail and examining her team’s faces.

"Major Carter, a short rest would be very welcome," said Kovachek, speaking up for the first time this trip. As he got closer to where the group was standing, Sam could see the beads of perspiration along his hairline, dripping down into his collar. Kovachek was a little more out of shape then she originally thought. While Major Davis, Daniel, and herself were tired, they weren’t as out of breath as Kovachek obviously was. She made a mental note to mention something to General Hammond about it when they got back. Maybe it was time that the members of the diplomatic team got out a little more with the rest of the SG teams on a regular basis. It couldn’t hurt and besides, it might help with their integration into teams on other occasions—such as this one.

Sam glanced around and figured that this was as good as any a spot to rest for a few minutes. Off to the side of the trail, there were a few large boulders that they could sit on or lean against—whatever their preference. "Okay, everyone. Let’s take five. Major Davis, how would you feel about keeping an eye out for a few minutes? I can take over after a while," Sam said, shrugging the pack from her back and swinging it down to rest next to one of the boulders.

"That would be fine, Major," Davis said, bringing his P90 to bear on the forest beyond their position.

"Good," she said, easing down to rest. Daniel dropped his pack and collapsed at her feet, wheezing slightly. "Daniel, you okay there?" Sam asked, concerned for him.

After taking a few deep breaths, he answered, "Yeah, just a little winded, that’s all. You don’t have to worry about me passing out or anything, Sam."

"Well that’s good to know, because I would have left you here. I know I wouldn’t want to have to lug both you and your pack up that hill," Sam said, a smile evident on her face as she pointed toward Meath with her hand. She took a long sip from her canteen and examined her team. She was keeping an eye on Kovachek as he settled in on the ground a little ways from the group, leaning against another one of the boulders. He was breathing heavily and mopping his brow with his hands, trying to wipe away the sweat.

Daniel half-smiled, when he realized that Sam was picking on him. "Thanks, Sam. I’ll remember that the next time you want me to carry your mineral samples back to the gate."

"Uh, Major Carter..." Davis said, his voice sounding unsure as he backed up, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I think we have company."

Sam and Daniel jumped to their feet, followed by a panting Kovachek. Sure enough, a few moments later, the familiar form of Egan emerged from the forest, gliding silently along the trail.

"Egan," Daniel exclaimed, stepping around Davis to greet the imposing figure. Sam placed a hand on Davis’ arm, letting him know that the stranger was the friend they were expecting.

"Daniel Jackson, it is good to see you once again," Egan said, pulling Daniel into a warm embrace.

Daniel returned it enthusiastically, before steeping back to introduce the rest of the group. "I’m sure you remember Samantha Carter," Daniel said, gesturing for her to step forward.

"Yes, I do," Egan said, bowing in respect. "It is good to see you again, my Lady. Lady Morgana is looking forward to speaking with you once again."

"Thank you, Egan. I am also looking forward to seeing her again," Sam said, smiling graciously in return.

"Egan, I’d also like you to meet Paul Davis and Stan Kovachek. They will be helping us form the alliance between our two peoples," Daniel said, indicating each of the men in turn. Both men inclined their heads in greeting, still at attention, not fully trusting the large, heavily armed man before them.

"It is a pleasure to meet friends of Daniel Jackson. Come, let me walk with you the rest of the way to the village. Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana are awaiting your presence," Egan said, turning his attention back to Daniel.

"Oh, yeah, that would be great," Daniel said, stepping back to where he had left his bag. Hoisting it up onto his shoulders, he glanced back at Sam, who had an amused expression on her face. Sam saw realization dawn on his face a moment later. "Ah...that is...if that’s okay with you, Sam."

"Yes, Daniel," Sam said, her hands crossed over her chest, the epitome of patience, as Daniel moved back to stand with Egan.

"Major..." The soft note of warning came from Kovachek.

Sam glanced sharply at the hovering Major, whose hands were tightly gripping his weapon. Her eyes narrowed sharply. "What seems to be the problem, Major?" Sam asked, her voice low and quiet, so as to not carry to where Daniel and Egan were conversing.

Kovachek glanced at the towering Celt before he answered. "Is it such a good idea to just go along with him?"

"He’s a friend, Major." Sam looked at him critically before she continued. "This is one of those times where I’m going to ask you to trust my judgement. Egan is a friend and will not harm us. He will merely accompany us back to the village. I don’t have a problem with that. Do you?"

"Well, no. But..." Kovachek started, at a loss for words.

"Major, I thought diplomats were a little more tolerant of others." Her voice was still low, but firm. Sam noticed that Davis was trying not to listen to their conversation, but curiosity was getting the better of him. She noticed his eyes drifting back to where she stood with Kovachek.

"Well, yes, we are."

"Then, what seems to be the problem?"

"Nothing, Major. Nothing at all."

"Good. See that it stays that way," Sam said, her tone indicating that the conversation was over. She leaned down to pick up her pack, before she stepped up next to Daniel.

"Yes, things have been quiet as of late. Over the past fortnights our sentries have not met any resistance during their patrols," Egan was saying.

"Have you had much unrest?" Daniel asked. Sam was sure that he had completely forgotten about the heavy load on his back. The digital recorder was already in his hand and Sam was certain that he was just itching to turn it on.

"Daniel, Egan, I’m sorry to interrupt, but before we get sidetracked, would it be possible to walk and talk?"Sam asked, stepping into the conversation before Egan could respond to Daniel’s question.

"Of course, my Lady," Egan said, bowing again. "You must be fatigued. The village is not far. Come, let us walk." Egan gestured widely, indicating that they should follow him as he made his way along the path.

Sam stepped up alongside Egan, with Daniel on Egan’s right. Davis and Kovachek settled in behind them. Sam could see Egan pursing his lips, and Sam was almost certain that Egan was trying to decide just how much to tell Daniel. Egan was skilled in the art of speech and politics and knew how to handle people. He was even better than some of the politicians back home, Sam thought.

"Egan," Sam said, drawing his attention to her. "How exactly does your society function?"

"Are you speaking in terms of civil society?" Egan asked politely, his eyes curious.

"Yes, in general terms." Daniel was sending silent messages her way, wondering where she was headed with her question. If her hunch were correct, Daniel would see the point in a few minutes.

"Well," Egan said, pausing briefly to collect his thoughts. "Ildanach is divided into many counties, with Meath being the largest. Lord Kentigern rules over Meath and leads us in battle and presides over us in peacetime. The nobles include all of the land-owning families as well as all the warriors, the priests and priestesses, the artists, and some of the craftsmen."

Egan looked inquiringly at Carter to make sure she was following his description. When she nodded, he continued. "This leaves the farmers who are considered to be freemen and the slaves, who are the unfree people."

"How do you choose your Lord?" Sam asked. Daniel was still shooting her quizzical expressions, but she was ignoring him. Sam also noted that his camera was now running silently, recording Egan’s response. She almost chuckled at his predictability.

"There are two ways in which a Lord can be designated. Either through lineage or through selection."

"In the case of Meath, how did Lord Kentigern become Lord?"

"Through both lineage and selection."

"How does one get selected?"

If Egan was suspicious about the direction of Sam’s questions, he didn’t show it. "There are certain requirements which he must fulfill. The Lord must not be deformed in any way that would prevent him from being a good warrior. Additionally, his father and grandfather must have been nobles."

"Who does the selection, the nobles themselves?" Sam asked.

"They do have a voice in the selection process, but the high priestess has the final say in the matter of selection," Egan said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Now I imagine that the nobles are well educated, as evidenced by you," Sam said. She glanced briefly over at Daniel, whose eyes were warning her off the subject.

Egan bristled a little at the question, but answered it nonetheless. "Yes. Although our ways are simple, we are not a primitive people. All of our people are well educated. We make sure that even the freemen are taught."

"I’m sure Sam wasn’t indicating that your people were uneducated, Egan. Please don’t take offense," Daniel said, trying to smooth things over. Sam knew she wasn’t as diplomatic as she could have been, but there had been something nagging at her ever since she was here the last time, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She looked ahead and noticed some smoke rising in the distance. They were nearing the village and she wanted to—needed to—know if she was right.

"Egan, from my observations, it seems that you are one of the most well educated persons here, apart from Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. Is there any reason why this appears to be true?" Sam asked, shooting Daniel a silent command to be quiet.

"I’m not sure what you mean, my Lady," Egan said, his eyes telling a different story.

"Are you related to Lord Kentigern by any chance?"

After a few moments pause, Egan replied quietly. "Yes, my Lady. Lord Kentigern is my older brother."

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Yes, my Lady. Lord Kentigern is my older brother."

Daniel felt his eyes widen at Egan’s response. Egan was part of the royal family line and brother to the current Lord of Meath.

Daniel quickly turned the camera off, dropping his hand to hang by his side. So, this entire time—from the first time they had stepped foot on the planet—they had been speaking with the King’s brother.

It wasn’t every day that you found someone from the royal family who was so approachable, so humble, and so subservient.

Daniel looked over at Sam, his eyes still wide, to see her smug expression. Not only had she figured it out on her own, he hadn’t even put all the clues together—and he was the anthropologist in the group. Looking back, he realized that the signs were all there. He hadn’t seen them. He hadn’t taken the time to look.

He glanced back at Paul and Major Kovachek. They were close behind and, from the look on Kovachek’s face, Daniel could tell that he realized the opportunity they had. SG1 had already built a strong relationship with the Lord’s brother. How hard would it be to write a treaty when you had the ear of the royal family?

"Egan," Daniel said, turning his attention back to the man at his side. "How does succession work exactly? When did Lord Kentigern become Lord?"

"When our father died, as the eldest son, he was crowned as Lord of Meath."

"So when he dies..."

"When he dies, if he has no successor and I am able and the Gods agree, I will become Lord of Meath," Egan answered simply.

Glancing ahead, Daniel noticed he could see the tall walls of Meath through the trees. If he listened carefully, he was sure he could hear the sound of people beyond the walls.

"Egan, thank you for your honesty," Daniel said, bending his head in a gesture of respect. "I will be honored to be considered your brother."

Egan looked at Daniel carefully before answering, a smile gracing his mouth. "As will I, Daniel Jackson. As will I."

Daniel returned the smile warmly, but quickly turned his attention to the village as they walked through the massive gates. He raised his hand and clicked on the camera to record the sights.

The village had not changed. Craftsmen of all types worked in their shops adjacent to the main thoroughfare of the village, glancing up to watch the strangers pass by. Some smiled in greeting, which Daniel returned whole-heartedly. Others, he saw, were not so welcoming, their eyes and general demeanor were cautious and observant, making Daniel feel slightly uncomfortable.

Of one thing he was certain: he did not want to get on their bad side.

Daniel moved the camera around, trying to catch as much as he could as they walked toward the castle. He was going to ask Sam for some time later on to come back and wander through the outer edge of the village, recording what he could. It wasn’t every day that you got the chance to see how a medieval Celtic village worked. From what he could see, everyone had a role, an assignment—even the children. He watched as some of the young ones ran back and forth from one door to another, carrying various items, exchanging them for other things, before running to yet another door. Other, older ones stood alongside their parents as apprentices learning the trade.

Daniel released a breath he wasn’t aware of holding. There was something about this village that drew him. Daniel wasn’t sure if it was the people or the atmosphere or something else, but it almost felt as if he were coming home.

Glancing ahead, Daniel saw Nerys standing at the open door to the castle, a wide smile on her face. As they got closer, she called to them in greeting.

"My Lady and Lords, please be welcome once again into our home," Nerys said. Once they got close enough, she curtseyed deeply and ushered them into the castle, closing the door behind them.

"Thank you, Nerys," Daniel heard Sam say, a smile in her voice. He was too busy filming the walls and the tapestries to answer. "It is good to be back. Would it be possible to put our bags down and freshen up before we meet with Lord Kentigern?"

"Yes, my Lady," said Nerys, gesturing for them to follow her up the winding staircase to the second floor. "I have had the same rooms prepared for you to use. Will they be acceptable?"

"I’m sure that they will be more than acceptable, Nerys," Sam said, climbing the stairs with Paul, Major Kovachek, and Daniel trailing behind. Daniel noticed that Egan had stepped into the Great Hall, probably to speak with Lord Kentigern and inform his brother of their arrival.

Nerys led them down the hall to the suite of rooms they had occupied previously. The fire was burning brightly and various servants were rushing about, bringing warm water into the room so they could freshen up.

"I believe Lord Kentigern was planning to dine with you this afternoon in the Great Hall and he would like to begin the talks for the treaty following your meal. You have some time yet before he expects you. Do you require anything?" Nerys asked, looking expectantly from face to face.

As Daniel turned the camera off, he managed to catch Sam’s eye and raised his eyebrow in question. Sam nodded slightly and indicated that he could ask a question.

"Nerys, would it be possible for us to walk around the village a little bit to speak with some of the craftsmen and the like? I’d like to take the opportunity to learn as much as I can about your people."

Nerys paused to consider the question, and for a moment, Daniel thought that she might not permit them access. She finally answered, her voice thoughtful. "It should be safe enough for you to walk throughout the village, my Lord. But I would recommend that you remain within the walls. I can have a guide sent to you, if you would like. He would be able to answer some of your questions if you have any."

"That is more than fair, Nerys. Thank you for your foresight in this matter. I would be delighted if someone could accompany me," Daniel said, glancing at Sam, who nodded and offered a small smile. Her eyes, though, were thoughtful. Sam probably had picked up some of the same feelings that he had noticed—Nerys’ hesitancy, indecision, and uncertainty. There was something going on here, something strange. It could be a simple explanation such as the civil unrest had grown and, since they were strangers, they needed to be extra cautious. Or, it could be something else.

Majors Davis and Kovachek were silent, but Daniel could tell that they were soaking in every word, every sight, in much the same way SG1 had the first time they were here. From firsthand experience, Daniel knew how overwhelming Meath could be.

"I will allow you some time to rest, and then I shall send Hywel to you. He will bring you back so you have enough time to prepare," Nerys said, moving toward the door.

"Thank you. That would be great," Daniel said as Nerys bowed her head and closed the door behind her. Daniel glanced around, finally noticing how heavy his pack had become. He let it slide off his back and placed it carefully on the floor beside one of the chairs. He looked at Sam and managed to catch her eye. She was watching Kovachek as he circled the room, staring intently at the furnishings and decorations. "If it’s okay, I’m going to put my stuff down in the same room I stayed in the last time."

"That’s fine, Daniel," Sam said, her tone distant. A moment passed before she shook her head slightly and turned to face him. "Daniel, what do think is up with Nerys? Did she seem a little unsure about how to answer your question or was that just me?"

"No, it wasn’t your imagination. I almost thought she was going to refuse my request to walk around the village," Daniel said.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought, too," Paul said, stepping up next to Daniel. "Are we free to walk around or do we have to stay here? Are we prisoners?"

"Well, we are their guests and they didn’t tell us that we couldn’t walk around..." Daniel started, but Sam cut him off before he could finish his thought.

"But, they are making sure we have a guide," Sam said, her fingers adding quotation marks around the last word. She paused for a minute, gathering her thoughts. Kovachek stepped up quietly to stand behind Davis. "Until something happens, I’m going to suggest that we abide by their restrictions. There might be more going on here than meets the eye. The explanation could be as simple as a little civil unrest. I know they were in negotiations with a representative from a nearby village when we were here before. Maybe the negotiations didn’t go as well as expected. Does that sound reasonable to everyone?" Sam asked, glancing around at everyone with a questioning expression.

"Since we are here to forge an alliance, I would recommend not making any waves early on," Kovachek said. "Everything we do will have some kind of effect on the negotiations—both good or bad. I know how much you all want this alliance. I’d rather play it on the safe side. At least, that’s my opinion."

Sam smiled at him. "That’s good advice, Major."

"I know that the Joint Chiefs and the President are in favor of this alliance, Sam. So, whatever we can do to make this go as smoothly as possible would be a good thing," Davis added quietly.

"Daniel, if you’re going to go for a walk, please tread lightly. We’ll hang out here, unless you want some company," Sam said.

"Actually, Major," Kovachek said, speaking up. "I’d like to go with Daniel and try and get a feel for the people, if that would be okay. Sometimes it’s easier when it comes time to sit down at the negotiation table if I have a feel for the society and the people." Kovachek shrugged, an embarrassed expression on his face.

"That’s fine with me, Major. Daniel?"

"Sure, I’d love some company," Daniel smiled. He was glad that Kovachek was warming up a little. Maybe he would settle into the team by the time everything was said and done. Better late than never.

"Okay, then it’s decided. Paul and I will stay here and get us settled in while you and Major Kovachek check out the natives. Sounds like a plan," Sam said, pulling the pack off her back and dropping it on the floor next to her feet.

"I’m just going to put my pack in my room," Daniel said, hoisting his bag off the floor as he headed for the room to the left of the bathroom.

"Sounds good. I’m taking the room over here," Sam said. Daniel looked over his shoulder in time to catch Sam gesturing to the room to the right of the bathroom door. "You guys can fight over the other two rooms."

"I’ll take the one by the door if that’s okay with you, Major," Kovachek said looking at Davis.

"Sure," Paul said, heading to the room adjacent to the one Daniel occupied.

A knock sounded from the door moments later and Major Kovachek opened it to reveal Hywel who stepped in to stand in the doorway.

"Good afternoon, my Lord," Hywel said, bowing his head to Kovachek. "Nerys sent me. She mentioned that you would be interested in a tour of the village."

"Yes, Daniel and I would be very interested in a tour," Kovachek said as Daniel emerged from his bedroom.

"Hywel," Daniel said, immediately recognizing Hywel and striding over. "It is good to see you once again. Are you our guide?"

"It seems that I am, Daniel Jackson. I am pleased you and Samantha Carter are in good health. Did Teal’c not accompany you on this trip?" Hywel asked pleasantly.

"No, Teal’c had other duties that required his attention. Hywel, I’d like you to meet Stan Kovachek and Paul Davis," Daniel said indicating each man in turn. Davis was standing in the doorway to his room, watching Hywel and Daniel converse.

"It is a pleasure to meet friends of Daniel Jackson," Hywel said, echoing the words spoken by Egan earlier that day. "Are you ready to depart?"

"Uh, yeah. I’m ready," Daniel said glancing around. "Major Kovachek...ah...Stan, are you?"

"As ready as I’m going to be," Stan confirmed.

"Okay, then. Hywel, we’re ready. Sam, we’ll be back in a little bit," Daniel said, glancing back over his shoulder at Sam, who had plopped herself down in one of the chairs near the fireplace.

"Okay. Have fun. Try to behave yourself," Sam said, her tone teasing.

"I will, mom," Daniel said as Hywel ushered them out the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"My lady," Turlough said, stepping into the room. "The visitors have arrived. Two are taking a tour of the village with Hywel and two have remained in the rooms you have appointed for their use. Lord Kentigern has arranged to have a meal with them shortly and plans to begin the discussions for the alliance."

"Very well, Turlough," Lady Morgana said, stroking the head that was in her lap. O’Neill had fallen asleep not long after consuming two rolls and another glass of the tea. Not only did the tea help to make his mind more susceptible to her control, but it also boosted his immune system, enabling him to heal at a much faster rate than was otherwise possible.

Even though his slumber permitted her easier access to his mind, Morgana was reluctant to alter it too extensively. To do so would take away from the man that he was. It would take away the characteristics that made him so desirable.

She gazed down at O’Neill’s sleeping form—his body still showing the stress from the days and weeks before. He looked different—from the way he held his body to his physical appearance. His forehead was creased even in slumber. He was pale, much paler than he had been, his cheekbones more pronounced. He had lost a lot of weight since he had first arrived and his beard had grown in, giving him a more distinguished—if slightly rumpled—look.

She smiled to herself, proud at what she had accomplished in such a short period of time. She doubted his own kind would recognize him now. And if they did, she could change that easily enough.

"Turlough, bring me a pitcher of water and another glass. I will need it for when O’Neill awakens," Morgana ordered.

"Yes, my Lady. I shall return immediately," Turlough said, turning on his heel and disappearing into the hallway.

Morgana traced a finger along O’Neill’s strong jaw line, the short hairs tickling her fingertips. There was something special about this man, she thought. And now, it was just a matter of time before she had him entirely—heart, mind, and soul.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Once they left the castle, Hywel took them on the grand tour, meandering through the various streets and alleys of Meath.

Daniel was fascinated by the artisans and blacksmiths, watching them mould and shape metals into the forms he was accustomed to seeing—the Celtic knots and symbols, and the long swords worn by most of the warriors in the city.

Although for the most part Major Kovachek was quiet, Daniel could see him absorbing the culture. It was almost as if he was breathing it in, allowing it to fill his very soul. Kovachek asked a few questions—mainly about the current state of affairs in the area and how much religion played into the way the village was governed. Daniel found himself listening politely, but his eyes were drawn to the sights surrounding him.

A few times Daniel had to pinch himself to assure himself that he wasn’t dreaming. The books he had read were coming alive before his eyes, amazingly close to the reality he was observing.

As reserved as Egan and Hywel were, Daniel finally figured out why these people looked the way they did—they were constantly preparing for battle, whether it was in training sessions standing in the shadows of the castle or on the streets in small scuffles.

After the third such tussle, Daniel asked the question that was plaguing his mind. "Hywel, why does it seem like these boys are fighting all the time?"

"Daniel Jackson, if you had not already noticed, we are a proud and brave people. For many of us who follow the warrior’s path, we are quick to defend our honor," Hywel said, leading them off to a quieter section of the street, away from the crowds which had gathered to watch the outcome of the latest fight. He gestured over his shoulder to the young boys sparring in the street. "Violence breaks out easily among the young ones, many of whom have been trained to wield a sword from the time they begin to walk. Many of these boys are eager to prove their courage and bravery. Even some of the older trained ones find that they are quick to fight if they believe they have been insulted."

"Really? I find it hard to believe that these boys would go to such an extreme," Daniel said, his tone incredulous.

Hywel smiled tiredly. "Daniel Jackson, we were all boys at one time or another. Did you always follow the right course? Did you always do the things your elders wished?"

Daniel looked down at his feet before answering. "Well, no, not exactly. But I didn’t take up arms against my friends."

"No, you might not have, but then, your ways are most likely very different from ours. This is our way of life." Hywel glanced up at the sky as if he was searching for something. "My Lords, I believe it is time to return to the castle so you have time to prepare to meet with Lord Kentigern."

Daniel nodded, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Sure, Hywel. Lead on," Daniel said, his tone distant, as he followed Hywel and Kovachek back to the castle.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Wake, my love. It is time for you to arise."

O’Neill opened his eyes slowly and Lady Morgana’s face swam into focus above him. It was a weird angle, looking up at her face, but as soon as she smiled, everything was all right. A satisfied smile settled on his face. She was still here. She had promised she wouldn’t leave him alone.

"My love, can you sit up?" Morgana asked, her hand stroking his temple.

O’Neill nodded slightly and with the help of Morgana, found himself sitting up against the stone wall a few moments later. He was tired, but he felt a lot better than he had a few hours ago.

Morgana examined him carefully before she spoke. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, my Lady," O’Neill answered immediately.

"Then I need you to trust me now. I have to give you something, but it will hurt quite a bit. It pains me that I must do this..."

"My Lady," O’Neill said, taking her hand into his own and looking deeply in her eyes. "I can withstand a little pain if it is for you."

"Truly?" Morgana asked, her eyes glittering. At O’Neill’s affirmation, she reached into her pouch and withdrew several leaves that she crushed into the empty glass sitting beside her. Pouring water into the glass, she continued speaking. "You must drink this entire glass of water in one swallow. Can you do this?"

"Yes, my Lady," O’Neill said, taking the glass from her hands. Looking at her smiling face over the rim, he tipped the glass back against his lips and swallowed.

As soon as the liquid hit the soft surfaces of his mouth and throat, an intense burning began, but by then, it was already too late. Lady Morgana was there, holding the glass to his mouth, making sure he drank the entire contents.

The agony spread down into his stomach, burning a trail behind it. Finally able to gasp for air when she pulled the tumbler away, he tried to cry out in agony, but for some reason he couldn’t make a sound. His hands went immediately to his neck, his brown eyes wide staring accusingly at Morgana.

Even through the pain, he tried to speak, to ask her what he had done wrong, but even though he could feel his lips moving, there was no sound coming out of his mouth.

Morgana pulled him close, hugging him to her, trying to comfort him as the realization washed over him. "Shush, my love. You will understand in time why this must be done. Everything will be fine. Go to sleep. The pain will pass. I will return shortly and you will accompany me to the Great Hall this evening as my guest," Morgana said, stroking his back, trying to calm the shudders that ran through his body.

He nodded into her shoulder and allowed her to ease him down to lie once again on the pallet of blankets. She left a few moments later, his silent sobs following her out.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"How’d the tour go, Daniel?" Sam asked as soon as he stepped foot in the door.

"My Lord, I will return shortly to bring you to Lord Kentigern," Hywel said, inclining his head toward Daniel and Kovachek.

"Thanks, Hywel," Daniel said, smiling absently as the door closed behind him. A few moments passed before he realized Sam had asked him a question. "Oh, Sam...uh, good. The tour was good."

Sam had turned around in her chair to look at Daniel when he hadn’t responded to her question. He looked up to catch her examining him carefully, her eyes narrowing, apparently not happy with what she was seeing. "Daniel, are you okay? Did something happen?" Her tone was full of concern, the muscles of her shoulders tensing.

"I’m fine, Sam. Just thinking," Daniel answered, flashing her a half-smile, trying to convince her that he was in perfect condition.

"Daniel," Sam said her tone low.

"You know what always amazes me, Sam?" Daniel said, dropping down in the chair next to the fireplace, trying to warm himself and change the course of the conversation. Paul Davis had stepped out of the bathroom and was silently observing them. Major Kovachek had settled on the arm of a nearby chair, listening intently. Kovachek was wearing a similarly thoughtful expression on his face as Daniel was.

"What, Daniel?" Sam asked, playing along.

"You know, every time we meet another race, another planet full of people, I begin to realize just how much we are alike. I mean, the planets are different and we may look entirely different and have totally different customs, but deep down we are the same. We all worry about our futures, we care about our children, we all are trying to scratch out for ourselves a better life." Daniel looked up at Sam from his hands, his eyes filled with anxiety. "Sam, I don’t know if we have anything that we can offer these people that will really matter to them. They have everything they need—family, homes, health, happiness, and safety. All we can bring them is death and destruction when the Goa’uld finally find them."

"Daniel," Sam started cautiously, "where is this all coming from? Did Hywel say something to you?" She glanced between Kovachek and Daniel when an answer was not forthcoming. A few moments passed before Kovachek finally spoke up.

"No, Major. Hywel didn’t say anything of the sort. From my observations, this is a very stable society and we have a lot that we can share. They have welcomed us with open arms. I think we should take their offer of friendship for what it’s worth," Kovachek said, pausing for a few beats. His forehead creased in concentration as he ordered his thoughts before he spoke. "They have their own civil problems, but so do we. Their society is not perfect and many die unnecessarily because of illnesses they can’t cure and fatal accidents. I believe that we can help improve their quality of life."

"But what if we can’t? What if all we can bring them is more war?" Daniel asked, his voice rising in frustration.

Paul sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes flashing. "Daniel, we took a risk when we opened that gate. We’ve angered the Goa’uld and these people may be able to help us. Would you rather we just bury our heads in the sand? You said it yourself back in the gateroom. These people may be the race that helps us turn the tide in the war against the Goa’uld. How can we turn our backs on them? Should we not give them what is in our power to give? Should we not try to make their lives a little better? Remember, Daniel, they chose to open the gate, you didn’t make them. They were just fortunate that we were the ones to step through first, not the Goa’uld."

Silence settled on the four of them, surrounding them like a blanket. They all had their own doubts and worries. They all had their own emotional baggage that they carried with them. But every time they stepped through the gate, that was all set aside. They weren’t only concerned about themselves—the fate of the planet Earth was in their hands. Sometimes that responsibility settled in deep, hampering movement, but a river of strength ran through each of them. It was what pushed them along.

Call it honor. Call it responsibility. What Hywel said rang true. They all followed the warrior’s path—everyone who stepped through that gate—and they were quick to defend their honor, their place in the universe.

It was what they did. It was who they were. It was their way.

Daniel’s whispered words, although subdued, were powerful. "We are not so different after all."

*~*~*~*~*~*

O’Neill did not know how much time passed before Morgana came for him once again.

And one thing he couldn’t figure out was why he never even thought to escape. He was no longer chained to the wall—Morgana had taken care of that. Leaving would have been easy—just up the stairs, around a few corners, and out the door.

But, the thought of escape never crossed his mind for long. Even now, as they walked up the stairs to the main areas of the castle, he was quickly dismissing the notion as preposterous.

The smells of food wafted on the air as they walked toward the kitchens, Morgana’s arm entwined with his. He felt better, stronger, but his mind was jumbled. His body followed Morgana’s suggestions and orders without question and he reveled in the pleasure of basking in her smile.

While the pain had passed, the effects of her latest potion had not. O’Neill was unable to even utter the smallest sound—a hum or whistle even being beyond his current abilities.

Even when the smallest ember of rage bubbled forth from the depths of his mind, the constant white noise filling his mind beat it down so that all that remained was serenity, peace, and conformity.

Before they entered the Great Hall from the door at the rear of the chamber, Morgana stopped, looking deeply into his eyes. "My love, there are visitors here who are trying to forge an alliance with us. We...I...want this alliance. Our people need this alliance. I need your cooperation. Will you just sit and observe?"

O’Neill nodded, willing to do what she asked.

"Good. I need you to sit by Turlough and not move until I return for you. I will permit you one allowance. If you must use the facilities, you may do so, but that is as far as you may go. Disobey me and you will face dire consequences. Do you understand?" Morgana’s eyes penetrated deeply into his, daring him to contradicther.

He nodded in understanding, dropping his eyes, and inclining his head in submission. All that she asked, he would do.

"Very well, my love. Come walk with me. It is time to enter," Morgana said, linking her arm in his and escorting him into the Great Hall.

From his vantage point on the dais, O’Neill could see that the Great Hall had been changed for the upcoming talks. Instead of a long table stretching to the main doors, a large round table was set in the middle of the room, just before the dais. All the torches in the room were lit, casting flickering shadows on the walls and the faces of the people present in the room.

On either side of the table were several rows of chairs. Many were already occupied, while other groups of people were milling about, speaking in low tones. Lord Kentigern was speaking with several men off to one side, while a small group dressed in drab green fatigues stood off to the side. Immediately, his body tensed. He recognized the blonde and brunette heads and, after a few seconds more, realization set in. Paul Davis and Stan Kovachek were here with Carter and Daniel. They were here to set up a treaty. After the shock at seeing them, a slow rage started to build within him, tightening the muscles in his back, the only response he was capable of making.

As Morgana stepped down off the dais, she tightened her hold on O’Neill, leaning in to speak quietly, issuing yet another mandate. "My love, you will be polite and courteous to everyone here. I expect you to be respectful to one and all. And you are not to do anything to upset these talks. I know what you are thinking. If anything happens, I will be very disappointed and we both know what happens when I’m disappointed, now don’t we?" Morgana asked, her voice low and tight, but firm.

A quick nod of his head showed his understanding and she led him to a chair in the front row, settling him in directly across from her seat at the main table. He was certain that she would be able to gaze on him all evening, watching his every move—enjoying his discomfort.

Several heads turned to watch her approach and immediately the crowd quieted down, finding their seats. Apparently, they were waiting for her.

When everyone settled down, O’Neill realized Morgana had chosen his chair very well. Not only would he be able to gaze on her beautiful form, but also he was forced to watch two of his closest friends—Carter and Daniel—make an alliance with a race of people he had come to despise.

And there was nothing he could do to stop them.

Absolutely nothing.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel was grateful that they had the chance to walk around a little bit before the negotiations began for the treaty. If they ate like this every day, he was positive that he was going to put on a considerable amount of weight before they got back to the SGC.

As the servants were clearing the table, others brought in chairs and set them up around the room, much to his surprise. Waving his hand, Daniel called Hywel over.

"Hywel, what’s with all the chairs?" Daniel asked, his hand gesturing wide to take in the room.

"We are setting up chairs for those who wish to listen to the talks this night," Hywel answered, surprise flickering across his features. "Is this not how you negotiate treaties?"

"Well, no, not exactly," Daniel said, hesitating a little at the words.

"Then what do you do? Would it not be more advantageous for the people to be able to hear firsthand the alliance we hope to form between our peoples?"

"Well, actually, on our planet this usually happens behind closed doors. The general public really doesn’t get much say in the treaty. Many times, they only hear about it when our leaders are signing the documents," Daniel explained, his hands crossed in front of him in a familiar pose.

"That is strange," Hywel commented, apparently at a loss for words. "Will this be a problem for you?" he asked a few moments later.

"No," Daniel answered loudly, immediately dropping his voice when Sam turned around. "No, that won’t be a problem. It’s just a little different than what we are used to. We’ll be fine. Thanks." Daniel smiled, bowing his head slightly toward Hywel, and walking over to where Sam stood with a perplexed expression on her face.

"What’s wrong, Daniel and what’s with all the chairs?" Sam asked, noticing his furrowed forehead.

Daniel took off his glasses, rubbing the heel of his hand across his face. Breathing deeply, he started to explain. "Well, apparently, not only are we negotiating with Lord Kentigern, but the people of Meath have a say in the treaty as well. That’s what all the chairs are for."

"Really?" Sam said, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Yeah, really. I told Hywel that it wouldn’t be a problem. I just hope Stan doesn’t have stage fright," Daniel said, smiling tightly.

"No, I don’t. Why do you ask?" Kovachek said, stepping up with Paul Davis. They had taken a quick trip back up to the room to get some of the paperwork he needed.

"Well, the people of Meath will be joining us during our negotiations," Daniel said, aiming a curious look at Stan when he didn’t flinch.

"Oh. Is that what you’re worried about? I’d rather draw up a treaty with ten thousand people, as long as they’re not belligerent and argumentative," Kovachek said, glancing quickly around the room. "From what I can see of the people here and when we were walking around this afternoon, they want this alliance. We just have to make sure we get what we want—and that shouldn’t be too difficult."

"That’s easy for you to say," Daniel said, catching a glimpse of Lady Morgana as she appeared from behind the dais. Lady Morgana had vanished immediately following dinner, only to return now arm in arm with another man. She was speaking quietly to him as she stepped down to the floor, her manner intense.

"It looks like the party’s just about ready to start," Paul said, pulling Daniel’s attention back to his teammates.

"Looks that way," Sam said, glancing around. "Come on, let’s find our seats. The fun’s about to begin."

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Looks that way," Sam said. "Come on, let’s find our seats. The fun’s about to begin."

Paul Davis nodded and slowly made his way to the table set before him. Everything that they did from this point forward would have some type of repercussion on how this treaty eventually ended up. It was a weighty responsibility and one that he was glad to share with Major Kovachek.

But still, even as they were discussing various topics and how each side could benefit, Paul noticed his mind kept drifting. General Hammond had been adamant about one point: they had to find Jack O’Neill. Even though Daniel had passionately argued that they had to return for the Colonel, General Hammond had plainly seen through his emotional arguments. According to General Hammond, Daniel’s true motives were the completion of the treaty and nothing more.

For Paul, though, looking for Colonel O’Neill was merely an exercise in futility. Even though General Hammond held out a hope that the Colonel was still alive, he was also a realist. If Colonel O’Neill were alive, he would do anything within his power to get himself home.

The fact that O’Neill still hadn’t surfaced in nearly two weeks was not a good sign.

But still, in the back of his mind, Paul had to keep searching, keep looking—just for his own peace of mind.

On the way into the great hall with Kovachek after dinner, he watched Lady Morgana stroll down the hall arm in arm with the older gentleman now seated in the front row. The man stood out like a sore thumb with his short hair and beard, so Paul had made some discreet inquiries, stopping several servants to ask some pointed questions. They’d all answered the same way: the man was a representative from Glyn Cuch. His appearance was merely cultural and nothing more.

But Paul was still distracted. He sighed deeply, pulling his thoughts back to the present, rewarding himself with a pointed glance from Kovachek. It was time to get back to business. They had a treaty to draw up.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When the talks concluded for the night some five hours later, Daniel was pleased to find that they had already hammered out some of the finer points of their alliance. Gate information and education was at the top of Lord Kentigern’s list and that was easy enough to provide. They were looking for other trading partners and the SGC had several worlds they could recommend. Vaccines and medical training were also easy requests.

Lord Kentigern had agreed to allow a scientific team to set up on the far side of their land, near to the Stargate as a permanent research station. Additionally, another cultural team would remain in the village, living and learning side-by-side with the villagers—a true exchange of information.

All through the evening, however, Daniel found his gaze wandering back to the man who had come in with Lady Morgana. He was different than everyone else, with short gray hair and a full beard. But he looked familiar. Daniel just couldn’t place where he had seen him before.

Even as he was getting ready for bed, Daniel’s thoughts kept drifting. There was something about that man, something important. He knew it. He could feel it in his bones.

If only he could remember what it was.


	6. Chapter Six

This time they locked the door.

For the first time in days, possibly even weeks—since at this point he’d entirely lost track of time—the door to his cell closed and locked with a loud clank as soon as Turlough pushed Jack through it. Without his collar and chain, apparently, Morgana and Company were not taking any chances of accidentally misplacing him in the middle of the night.

Standing in the middle of the dark cell, with only a small glimmer of light shining through the barred window in the door, O’Neill ground his teeth in frustration. He was in a sorry state. He was locked up in the dungeon of a castle, barely clothed, his voice was on vacation, and his brain and body kept losing their connection.

Just peachy.

At least he didn’t hurt anywhere. That was a pleasant change, but who knew how long that would actually last.

This evening had been a nightmare—and one he would probably relive time and time again if Morgana had any say about it. It had been painful to sit twenty feet away from Daniel and Carter. He was forced to watch their every move, all their familiar gestures and quirks—Daniel constantly playing with his glasses, Carter tucking the longer strands of her blonde hair behind her ears—but completely unable to speak or do anything but stare. Even though he had managed to catch Daniel’s eye several times throughout the evening, the lack of recognition had been disturbing. To Daniel, Jack was just one more face in a crowd. Jack was a nameless face without a voice. One nameless, voiceless face without the will to get the hell out of Dodge.

Glancing back to the closed door, Jack rubbed his hand roughly across his face and into his short gray hair. He’d discovered that as long as Morgana wasn’t in sight he was pretty much himself, the noise in his mind dropping down to a tolerable level, allowing him to think—and perhaps plan his escape.

Squinting through the dimness, he crept to his pallet of blankets wishing he had a tall glass of crystal clear mountain spring water. His throat was dry again—probably due to his forced abstinence before. As long as she didn’t give him that firewater again, he’d be okay. Long after she had left, he had writhed in agony until the pain had finally dissipated, allowing him to fall into a restless sleep. Of course, that luxury hadn’t lasted long. She had awoken him just so she could drag him upstairs for her nightmarish version of show and tell.

It wasn’t as if he could actually ask for a glass of water, he thought savagely. Besides, he wasn’t the type to do the whole sign language/stick figure drawings thing. That was Daniel’s job.

Daniel, Jack thought, his breath going out in a long sigh. Daniel had looked tired. Probably not taking care of himself again, too busy wrapped up with one artifact or another—forgetting to sleep and eat as he usually did.

Thinking back, he realized that Carter had looked a little highly strung as well—probably due to her new position as leader of SG1. Since he was gone, there was nothing to hold her back. Jack knew that she was more than capable of commanding an SG unit. People respected her, looked up to her—he did, and he was the hardest sell of all. She didn’t have anything to worry about. Hammond loved her—as a surrogate child and as the brilliant scientist who had pulled their asses out of the fire more times than he could remember.

Leaning back against the cold stone wall, he pulled a blanket around his body, trying to keep warm. While the Great Hall had been heated, the rooms in the castle foundation were anything but warm. Drafts abounded and the blankets never fully covered his lanky frame. It was one of those constants that convinced him that the universe was playing one big practical joke on him. No matter where he had gone throughout his life—whether it was on earth or another planet—his feet were always cold due to a substantial lack of blanket length. Ildanach was no exception.

Trying to conserve as much body heat as possible, he drew the blanket tighter around him and pulled his feet up toward his chest, resting his elbows on his knees. The uneven stones of the wall dug into his back but he welcomed that small discomfort because it reminded him of where he was and what had happened to him—not that he would forget anytime soon, he thought, his mouth turned down into a painful grimace.

He was tired, but he knew he was too wired to sleep. His team was here—minus Teal’c apparently—and they didn’t know who he was. And from the looks of things, they didn’t even know that he was here. And they probably weren’t even looking.

Things were not looking up.

There had to be some way he could contact them to convey to them that he was still here, that he was still waiting for that one chance, that one small fighting chance, to go home.

He was still thinking that thought as he drifted off into a fitful sleep, his head cradled in his arms.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Egan glided through the silent halls of Meath Castle while its occupants slept soundly all around him. This night he was finding it difficult to sleep. His mind would not quiet.

He had sat through the sessions in the Great Hall this evening—in the back among the shadows—while his brother played Lord, presiding over the event in a grand fashion—as he usually did when there was an audience to impress.

While he agreed with the alliance they were outlining, it was Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana’s motives that concerned him. His brother had changed these past few years, moving away from the warrior’s path that he had at one time cherished.

Egan nodded quietly to a passing servant, smiling gently in greeting, his mind a million miles away. The servants were accustomed to his nightly strolls, as infrequent as they usually were. He realized that, as of late, these walks had almost become nightly, his restlessness beginning sometime after his first meeting with the strangers who stepped through the great stone ring.

His actions of late weighed heavily on his mind. He was the one who had greeted them and extended the hand of friendship that they had gladly returned in kind. He had brought them to his home, to his family, hispeople, without a word, without a warning of what could happen.

He had seen the hungry look in Lady Morgana’s eyes that first evening and he knew that things would not go well for these strangers, especially for O’Neill. He was the strongest one—full of energy and vitality. He was a warrior, one educated in the art of war and in the ways of honor. Egan could see it in O’Neill’s eyes, in his bearing, in his very being. O’Neill had a warrior’s soul and walked the warrior’s path.

After he had escorted Daniel Jackson and his colleagues to the Castle this day, he had spent the remainder of the afternoon deep in thought, walking through the gardens trying to gain a measure of peace.

Peace, however, would not come.

He trusted Lady Morgana and Lord Kentigern with his life. Kentigern was his brother and, even though he had his faults, he was family. When they were growing up, Kentigern had always been the center of attention, winning awards at the various contests and fairs each year, excelling in all things until he was eventually selected as Lord.

Lady Morgana was his wife and Meath’s high priestess, but she had changed over the years. Egan remembered her from when he was younger, when she first had come to the village from the outlying territories, asking for protection and a home. Immediately, his father had welcomed her, for not only was she a priestess in service to our God Lugh, but she was beautiful. Throughout the years, she had aided bothhis father and his brother to become powerful rulers, bringing a peace to Meath that had not been seen in years.

However, even though she claimed to be trained in the path of warriors, there were times when Egan doubted her word—and her motives.

Just as he did now.

Glancing out a window as he passed, he noted the flight of several birds against the lightening sky. Dawn was soon to break. He sighed. This was another night where he would find no rest.

Egan paced though the silent halls, his hands clasped behind him, his expression thoughtful. But time and time again, his steps led him to the hallways and stairs that he wanted to avoid. Twice already this night he had turned from this very doorway, but yet three times his feet—or was it his heart—had led him here.

This time he did not turn away.

Stepping carefully down the scarcely lit staircase he made his way into the depths of the castle, the cool damp air caressing his face. There were no guards present on this lower level this night, as per Lady Morgana’s order. Apparently, she felt secure, confident in her own abilities. Egan, however, suspected that O’Neill would surprise her.

Walking to the closed cell door, Egan peered in, trying to see the figure slumped in the shadows. Even though it looked as if O’Neill were sleeping, crouched uncomfortably against the wall, O’Neill was a light sleeper this night. Just as Egan started to turn away, a glint from O’Neill’s open eyes caught his attention.

They stared at each other through the darkness for several moments before Egan moved to grab the key and the torch, opened the door to the cell, and stepped inside.

He placed the torch on the wall, eyeing O’Neill carefully, waiting to see if he would do something. O’Neill just watched Egan warily, his expression guarded. After a few minutes of locked eyes and tense silence, Egan kneeled down, finally getting a good look at O’Neill in the flickering light offered by the single torch. O’Neill looked better than he had several nights before, which was not saying much. His face was gaunt and pale and covered with a salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes were tired, but still held a small spark.

For Egan, that was all he needed to see.

“O’Neill, how much of the tea did you drink?” Egan asked, getting directly to the point, his eyes fastened to O’Neill’s. Dawn was breaking and the guards would soon return. Egan knew he did not have much time.

After a moment’s hesitation, O’Neill raised his hand, three fingers raised. Egan’s eyes widened slightly in surprise while O’Neill looked on, a perplexed expression on his face. Egan explained a moment later.

“Normally, men such as yourself drink much more of the tea, double what you have had. Are you sure that was all you drank?”

O’Neill’s firm nod was answer enough.

“Good. The confusion you are currently feeling should dissipate within the next day or so, allowing you to act independently of Lady Morgana.” At O’Neill’s disgusted expression, Egan continued. “I know you are not pleased, but I assure you, it will wear off. Take pleasure in your fortune. Most men find themselves at her mercy for much longer. How much of the Riordan did you take?”

O’Neill shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

“My apologies,” Egan said. ”I am inquiring about your voice. Did Lady Morgana give you something to drink or eat?”

O’Neill nodded vigorously and pantomimed drinking, holding up a single finger.

“You drank one glass?” Egan asked, needing confirmation. At O’Neill’s affirmative nod, he continued. “Good. Try saying something.”

O’Neill’s forehead furrowed, his eyebrows drawing close together in distrust, but he tried—without success. O’Neill shrugged apologetically.

“No, it is I who should apologize, but that must wait for another time. You will probably recover your voice within the day. Riordan, while effective, lasts only for a short time, usually less than a day. With your physical differences from my people, the time may be longer or shorter, unfortunately, I do not know which.” Egan paused, his eye critically going over O’Neill’s face. He reached out his hand to tilt O’Neill’s head, but stopped quickly, realizing what he was doing. “O’Neill, I need to examine you. I am sure Morgana will return once the sun rises. I do not have much time.”

O’Neill nodded, somewhat reluctantly.

“I aided another man, much like yourself, years ago when I was much younger,” Egan admitted, taking O’Neill’s head in his hands and tilting it to get a better look at him in the dim light. O’Neill drew back slightly, fighting Egan’s hold until he finally acquiesced and relaxed his muscles, allowing Egan to work. “He was a formidable warrior and Lady Morgana took a personal interest in him—much like she has in you. He managed to escape, never to be found again. I can help you as I did him. Give me your hand,” Egan ordered, and much to his surprise, O’Neill complied with a roll of his eyes and a sigh.

The man had not lost his spirit.

“Do you trust me, O’Neill?” Egan asked after a few moments, sitting back on his heels, giving O’Neill more room to move. His quick examination of O’Neill was promising. He was in fair health, in no pain, and his eyes were clearing quickly.

O’Neill narrowed his eyes and shook his head slightly back and forth.

The answer did not surprise Egan. “Before I go, let me tell you this. You can choose to believe me or not, it is entirely up to you,” Egan said, speaking fast and keeping his voice low. “I think you are past the worst of what Lady Morgana’s potions can do. I do not think she will give you more this day. She underestimates you, thinking she has already won. I, though, can tell the difference.” Egan smiled without humor. “Morgana has limited control over your mind and it will continue to decrease as the day goes on. Remember that, but do not misuse the freedom it gives you. Your voice should also return soon. Use it wisely.”

Egan stood, glancing back over his shoulder toward the door. If anyone saw him now, he would have a hard time explaining himself—even as the brother of the Lord. What he was about to do amounted to treason—and called for death.

He did it anyway.

Egan reached into the leather pouch at his hip, pulling out two small leaves. Looking above the greenery at O’Neill, he came to his final decision. From here there was no going back. “O’Neill, I know you do not trust us, but we are a good people. Take this. It will give you energy when you need it and it will help clear your mind—but remember this, it will only be a temporary solution for you. You must find your own way home.”

Leaning down, Egan handed the green leaves to O’Neill and turned, walking out the door. Looking in the cell as he locked the door, Egan noticed that O’Neill had not moved, still holding the foliage in his outstretched hand.

Had Egan stayed, he might have heard the strangled whisper, barely louder than a gentle breeze.

“Thank you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was afternoon on the second day of the negotiations and they were just about finished. Lady Morgana, Lord Kentigern, and the team from the SGC had reconvened first thing in the morning—with an equally large audience in attendance as the night before—and things were moving smoothly.

For Daniel, it was a blessing. He was eager to explore the village and some of the farms on the outskirts of the city—and the talks were boring him to death. Intellectually, he knew his place was here, but his emotional side had other thoughts on the matter. Maybe it was the fact that he really wasn’t supposed to leave the table that made him so jumpy—especially when he knew the treasure trove that was outside waiting for him.

So, instead of wandering around in the sunshine, he was sitting in the Great Hall sandwiched between Sam and Stan Kovachek and trying not to be obvious about his boredom. Glancing to his right, he caught Sam’s eye and smiled quietly at her. Daniel could tell from her expression that she also wished she were anywhere else but here. Paul and Stan, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet and were having the time of their lives—at least that’s how it appeared from Daniel’s perspective.

Glancing around the room, he noticed most of those present in the audience were listening intently, some even taking notes. Egan, Daniel noticed, was standing once again in the back of the room doing a fine job of blending in with the tapestries.

Daniel glanced at his watch again. It was only one o’clock, fifteen minutes later than when he had looked the last time. He sighed quietly, trying to pay attention to what Paul and Lord Kentigern were discussing, something about mining rights. Apparently, the mineral samples they had brought back looked promising and the SGC wanted to get their hands on more. Although the samples didn’t contain a lot of naquadah, there was enough to make some of the scientists very happy.

“The mineral you seek, why is it important?” Lady Morgana was asking.

“We have found it to be useful in many aspects, especially for defensive technologies such as shields,” Sam said, drawing Morgana’s attention away from Stan. “Unfortunately, naqahda is not plentiful on our planet.”

Apparently, Sam was leaving some of the more interesting uses of naquadah—such as in ribbon devices, the Stargate, nanotechnology, power generators, and explosive devices—out of the conversation, Daniel thoughtabsently, his mind and his gaze wandering around the chamber once again. An empty seat in the front row surprised him. Lady Morgana’s friend was gone. He’d been there all morning. They’d caught each other’s gaze on more than one occasion, Daniel usually turning away first, uncomfortable with the man’s cool, level gaze.

Daniel leaned over to Sam, whispering quietly, “I’m going to the little boy’s room.” Sam nodded her understanding, her mind focused on naqahda and mining rights.

Daniel slid from his chair, quickly excusing himself from the table. Once he was out in the hallway, however, he was unsure why he was there. He really didn’t have to go to the bathroom. Glancing around the empty hallway, he headed for the back of the castle, toward the bathroom and what he thought was the kitchen area. Since there was no one around, he didn’t think it would hurt if he just poked his head into some of the rooms he was passing. You never knew when you would get another opportunity like this, to walk through a castle, he thought, convincing himself that his snooping was justified.

Halfway to the kitchens, he was pulled deeper into an empty room, nearly swiping him from off his feet. When he finally caught his balance, Daniel found himself face to face with the tall stranger in the dimly lit room. The stranger tried clearing his throat several times, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and very rough. The message, though, was crystal clear.

“Help me.”

Daniel glanced at the open door, expecting someone to walk in the room. “What?” Daniel asked. “How can I help you? What do you want me to help you do?”

The man closed his eyes briefly before he answered. To Daniel, the man looked frustrated, which perplexed Daniel all the more.

“Need...help...gate.”

“You need help with the gate?” Daniel was confused. Gate education would start once the treaty was signed. Did he want a jumpstart on the education? And why? “What do you want to do with the gate? I don’t understand.”

The man turned around, his hands running through his hair as he took a few steps away from Daniel deeper into the shadows. Several beats passed before the man turned around once again, moving in quickly and stepping close to Daniel, causing Daniel to back up several paces, nearly standing in the open doorway.

“Home.”

“Home? What about your home? Did something happen to your home?” Daniel glanced away, gazing across the hall at the hanging tapestry. Looking back at the stranger, Daniel breathed in deeply and took a leap of faith. “What do you want me to do?”

“My lord?” came an inquiring voice from the hallway, making Daniel jump nearly out of his boots. He turned to face the girl.

“I am sorry, my Lord, if I startled you. I was just inquiring if you required something,” said the young girl. Daniel figured she was no older than Cassie was, probably around twelve or thirteen.

“No. I was just looking around a little before I went back to the Great Hall,” Daniel answered.

“Very well, my Lord. If you require anything, please do not hesitate to ask,” she said, curtseying and walking away.

When Daniel glanced back in the dim room, his eyes narrowed in bewilderment. Squinting through the half-light, Daniel realized that he was alone. The stranger had slipped into the shadows and vanished without a trace, without a sound.

Confused, Daniel stepped back into the hall and slowly made his way back to the Great Hall. When he found his seat, he was surprised to see the stranger sitting across from him, occupying the same seat as before with the same blank expression on his face that he had worn throughout the talks.

This time, however, Daniel was unable to catch his eye. The stranger sat perfectly still, his eyes focused intently on Lady Morgana.

*~*~*~*~*~*

That was a stupid idea, O’Neill, his mind chided him, as he strode down the passageway back to the Great Hall. If he stayed away any longer, Turlough was sure to come looking for him. But when Jack had seen Daniel roaming the hallways alone, he couldn’t think of a better plan. What made him think that Daniel would understand what he was trying to say? Jack grumbled to himself. Sometimes that boy was denser than a ton of bricks. Why did it have to happen now of all days?

It was times like these that Jack was convinced that Daniel had had much more successful communication with dogs on more than one occasion.

Sliding back into his seat next to Turlough, Jack leaned back in the chair, relaxing his muscles, his hands clasped loosely in this lap. Normally, it was nearly impossible for him to sit still for any length of time. But right now, his life depended on it. The white noise in his mind was nearly gone and his voice was returning, albeit slower than he would have liked. If he took it slowly, freedom might only be a few steps away.

He just needed to get outside.

Focusing his attention on Lady Morgana’s collarbone, Jack let his mind wander, thinking of the various possibilities, various situations. He knew he wasn’t up to his usual levels, but even if he wasn’t at his best, he should be able to get himself to the gate and somehow get himself home—even if he took a side trip to Abydos or Chulak. One thing he knew for sure—he didn’t want to end up splattered against the iris just because he couldn’t get his hands on his GDO.

Vaguely, he realized Daniel had returned to the Great Hall as well, sitting down at the main table. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack could tell that Daniel was trying to get his attention, but any contact that obvious would mean death for him—and Jack was positive on that one point. He wanted to stay alive. Jack remembered what Lady Morgana was like when she didn’t get her way. He’d rather take hundreds of spoiled brats—just like the one he had seen in the grocery store just a few weeks ago, throwing a temper tantrum because she couldn’t get a chocolate bar—than be subjected to what this overgrown spoiled brat Celtic priestess could throw at him.

But, all his plans hinged on one thing: he had to be outside of the castle.

While a zat gun would be nice, he didn’t think Carter or Daniel would just let him borrow one—especially not in their present state. He probably couldn’t rely on Davis or Kovachek, either, Jack thought. Morgana had probably managed to get her mitts on them as well.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Stan Kovachek glancing at his wristwatch before speaking up again. “Lady Morgana, Lord Kentigern, would it be possible to take a recess for an hour or two? We would like to rest briefly. Additionally, it will give me some time to draw up some of the documents about which we were speaking. Would that be acceptable to you?”

Even before Lord Kentigern could respond, a figure materialized beside him. Egan bowed deeply. “My lords, please pardon my interruption, but perhaps a short walk around the village would help clear everyone’s mind, since you have been seated for the majority of the day.”

“Thank you, Egan for suggesting that, but I believe our guests would rather take the time to rest and relax—” Lady Morgana said, only to be cut off by Daniel.

“Uh, actually, a walk would be good. It helps to get the brain cells working again,” Daniel said, glancing around the table for support.

“If it is not too much trouble, I would also love to walk around the village again. Perhaps even others could join us. If they have questions, I’m sure my team would be delighted to speak with them in person,” Stan said. O’Neill almost huffed in disbelief when Stan said “my team,” but he managed to restrain himself before the sound emerged. From the look of fire in Sam’s eyes, Jack was sure that Kovachek would get an earful from her later on tonight.

“My lord,” Egan said, bowing his head in respect, “your idea would be pleasing to us as well. The people of Meath have many questions for you.”

“Very well, then, if everyone is in agreement, then let us walk. The weather is fine,” Lord Kentigern said, rising from his seat, his hand entwined with Lady Morgana’s.

Jack was ecstatic. He was sure that the utter glee of the situation was shining brightly in his eyes, so he kept them downcast, meekly following the crowd and the leading of Turlough’s hand.

After only a few paces, Lady Morgana stepped close to him, whispering in his ear. “Stay with the group and behave yourself and you will be rewarded this night.”

Jack nodded his head in understanding, watching Morgana glide forward to walk alongside her husband. He could have jumped for joy, but decided restraint was the better option. The white noise was gone and he felt no compulsion to obey Morgana’s command.

He glanced at his surroundings surreptitiously, looking for escape routes. The group was large, but he realized that as long as Turlough was at his side, he didn’t stand a chance. He could wait. He’d waited this long. A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

The weather was ideal—not too hot, not too cold. If it were Earth, he would have called this Indian Summer. He’d be okay out in the open tonight. He just had to get away. He knew how to survive in the woods overnight. He’d done it often enough—as a kid, running away from home and a situation he found intolerable at times and as an adult, on special ops missions and on planets far, far away.

He was self-sufficient. He knew how to take care of himself. On many occasions, he was the only one he could really rely on when things got tough. He couldn’t even depend on his team or the SGC—they’d left him for dead.

Maybe it was time for him to retire—for good this time. He’d thought about it often enough, but the promises made to his dead son and others kept a hold on him. If he gave up now, he would fail them all and that was something that he wasn’t prepared to do—yet.

Daniel, Sam, and Paul Davis were scattered throughout the crowd, small groups hovering around them. Daniel, of course, had his digital recorder out and was busy filming as they walked. Sam was chatting animatedly with Lady Morgana up near the front of the group, while Stan was holding court with Lord Kentigern.

Paul Davis was speaking with Hywel but keeping an eye on Daniel, making sure he didn’t stray too far behind the group. Good luck, Paul, Jack thought, smiling to himself. It’s been four years now and I still haven’t been able to keep him from wandering off.

All the while, Jack kept his eyes peeled, looking for an opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

“Turlough,” called Lady Morgana, her hand waving high in the air.

When Turlough answered her and advanced his way through the crowd to be at her side, Jack almost sighed in relief. He wished he could hear what they were saying, but they were too far away and there were too many people around, too many conversations, and too many voices.

A few moments later when Turlough loped off heading back to the castle, Jack realized that it was either now or never. He’d never have a better opportunity. Keeping an eye on Lady Morgana and watching for the impending return of Turlough, Jack maneuvered his way to the edge of the group, carefully waiting for the moment that could very well make or break the rest of his life.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel was having a hard time paying attention to what Hywel was saying. Recording the sights and sounds of the village was far more important right now—at least in Daniel’s eyes. Glancing over quickly, he flashed Paul a grateful smile. At least one of them was paying attention—and responding coherently.

Daniel panned the camera around, catching glimpses of faces and buildings. They were nearing one of the village walls, closer to some of the residential areas of the city. Between some of the wooden and stone structures small gardens grew, most of them past the harvest and picked clean, leaving the plants to wither and die in the cold of winter that was soon to be upon the valley.

He maneuvered his way to the back of the group so he would be able to film without getting too much of the group in his way.

This was fantastic, Daniel thought, as he stopped suddenly, zooming the camera in closer, trying to get all the details of the carving outside a door they were passing. He didn’t remember reading about any intricate wood carvings on Celtic homes before, but then, on Earth there really was never anything left for the archeologists to find—just dust, stone, and rubble.

If they could only see just a fraction of what I have, Daniel mused. They wouldn’t know where to begin. One day, perhaps once the Goa’uld threat was no more, his colleagues would be able to see some of the things he had been fortunate enough to behold on planets far, far away.

Panning back the way they had come, he vaguely heard Lady Morgana call for someone. But, when the call was not repeated, he continued filming, realizing that the group was in a section he had not visited previously with Hywel.

Taking his eye away from the camera, he let it run, panning the village while he gazed about, looking for something else to record. Up ahead was a gap in the wall where two large gates stood open, allowing cattle and people to come and go. Beyond the gate, Daniel saw a river, not wide, but flowing swiftly. Several men were standing knee-deep in the water, their cloaks on the riverbank, their feet bare, their pants rolled up as high as they would go, and holding spears. Other men, several yards downstream, were handling fishing nets catching some of the smaller fish.

In the few minutes they stood at the gate, and Daniel observed the men as they caught several fish. On the edge of his awareness, he heard Hywel explaining about what was happening. Daniel smiled to himself when he caught a glimpse of Paul’s bored expression. At least now he knows how I feel, Daniel thought.

A huge splash distracted them as one of the fishermen tripped and fell into the river. Seconds later, he regained his feet and the man walked to shore amidst the joking and teasing of his friends.

As Lord Kentigern called for them to keep moving, Daniel stayed to get one last glimpse of the fishermen. This was a way of life that was nearly extinct on Earth, replaced instead by machines, global commerce, and the mighty dollar. Although primitive, it certainly served its purpose.

Movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. For a moment he could have sworn he saw something, but he reckoned that it was just his imagination or an animal in the brush.

He quickly turned to catch up with the rest of the group before he was left behind and had to listen to Sam’s complaining later that night.

There were some things that never changed. That was one of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack O’Neill ran.

As soon as he was past the fishermen and out of their sight, he ran as fast and as hard as he could. He followed the river, remembering distantly that the path from the Stargate ran parallel to the stream.

Jack didn’t think anyone had seen him. For a brief minute, he thought Daniel might have given him away—Daniel and his stupid camera—but, when no angry shouts or running feet followed, Jack breathed a small sigh of relief.

Once he hit the shelter of the forest, he planned to stop, to rest briefly before pressing on. He only had a two-hour hike back to the gate—if he took the direct route, which was unlikely. He’d discovered that over the years of missions, the strangest things happened when you took the easy route. Better to be safe and go slow, than head directly for your ultimate destination—and perhaps a waiting army.

Soon he would be off this godforsaken planet and going home—back to his bed, his shower, warm food, crystal clear water, and comfortable clothing.

Only a few minutes into his escape and he was already winded. This was not part of the plan. He could see the darkness of the forest just ahead, the river turning, meandering deeper into the woods beyond, the dense foliage swallowing it whole.

A few more yards and then a few more and he could rest. That was his mantra. That’s what was keeping him going—that and his sheer determination and bull-headed stubbornness. He was not going to die on a planet light years from home.

Stones and rocks kept digging into his feet with every step, piercing through the soft-soled shoes Morgana had given him. While they were fine within the village walls, he wouldn’t recommend them for long distance running. Not enough support where you need it most, he thought, chuckling humorlessly to himself.

He ducked his head as he plowed his way into the undergrowth, trying to avoid tree limbs, twigs, and thorn bushes—but managing to get several scratches in the process.

A few more yards and you can rest.

He was wheezing. It was loud amidst the silence of the forest. The sound was all consuming.

A few more yards and you can rest.

His heart was pounding so strongly he was nearly convinced that it would burst out of his chest. He was confident that it could be heard beating several feet away from him.

A few more yards and you can rest.

Sweat poured down his face, into his eyes, obscuring his vision. He wiped savagely at his eyes trying to clear them enough so he could see where he was going. He leaped over fallen tree limbs time and again, nearly losing his balance each time, but regaining it to push on further into the forest.

A few more yards and you can rest.

There was a small clearing up ahead. Rest stop number one was fast approaching. If he didn’t stop now, he was sure that he’d just end up passing out a few feet farther down the path.

Collapsing on the ground, his chest heaving as he tried to pull in oxygen to his body, he tried to calm his pounding heart. For several minutes, he simply sat there, reveling in the peace and quiet and the absolute pleasure of breathing fresh air.

His ears were open to the sounds of the forest, listening intently for what could be the end of his life—the sound of movement, the sound of people in the forest, the sound of people in the forest looking for him.

Except for his heaving breaths, which were quickly evening out, the only sounds came from the forest itself—the rustling of the leaves, the twittering of birds high above, the scuffling sound of small feet against trees. Nature at its best.

He was free. Now he just had to get to the gate—and that was easier said than done.

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the two leaves that Egan had handed him earlier that day, even before the sun broke over the horizon. Examining them with a careful eye, he twirled him in his fingers, mesmerized by their quickly changing color as they caught the light.

As if by some internal force, he came to a decision.

He didn’t really trust Egan, but he didn’t have much choice. Why did Egan offer assistance to me if his only intention was to kill me? Jack thought, his eyes narrowed in concentration, focused intently on the leaves in his hand.

He would take one now to get as far as he could before nightfall, and then take one tomorrow morning.

Tucking one leaf away, he sniffed the remaining one carefully. It didn’t smell like anything with which he was accustomed. It had a sweet odor, but was mixed with other smells—foreign, alien smells.

Dropping it on his tongue, he closed his mouth and started chewing. The aroma filled his senses, lifting his spirits. It slid down his throat, leaving behind a sugary aftertaste.

Sweet, he thought, gazing around, a half-smile on his face.

After a few minutes, he was ready to move on, this time slower and more carefully, covering his trail as he went. He traveled for several hours—at least that was what he estimated since he no longer had his watch. He doubled back on his trail several times, leaving false trails as well. The people of Meath—at least the warriors—were doubtless very good trackers. He wanted to make sure they had problems following him.

Several times he considered walking directly to the gate, trying to beat the guards that were sure to be pursuing him. To him it was obvious where he’d go—to the gate. But, if he bided his time, he might stand a better chance of getting away unseen—if they thought he was already gone. It was convoluted logic, he thought, but it was the best plan he had.

Evening had fallen a while ago—an hour or two, or so he thought. It was time to make camp for the night.

The leaf, stimulant—whatever it was—had worked quickly, giving him the boost of energy he needed.

He’d covered a lot of ground, and hoped he was still on the right path to the gate. He stayed off the main path, remembering that patrols might be doing their rounds. One thing was for certain: he did not want to meet anyone tonight.

The nearly full moon was giving him ample light, but the night was getting cold. He needed to find somewhere to rest for the night—preferably someplace quiet that didn’t already have an occupant.

Detecting a small clearing up ahead, he scouted around, looking for signs of habitation. Once he was satisfied that it was clear, he settled down under the bows of a great pine tree, its limbs nearly brushing the needle covered ground.

The pine needles would provide a soft mattress of sorts, while the tree itself would give him cover. It was perfectly positioned at the foot of a small rocky hill, providing protection for his back.

The needles were thick, thick enough for him to dig in, covering as much of his body as possible, insulating him from the cold of the night.

The hooting of an owl and the rustling leaves of the trees surrounding him followed him down to a peaceful sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It seemed like all hell broke loose once they reached the castle.

They’d enjoyed an hour or two walking through the village, conversing with many who had questions. Lady Morgana was more than pleased to show SG1 the sights—obviously proud of what her people had accomplished. It seemed that every turn they made, Sam was more and more impressed by what she saw. These people, although far behind Earth technologically, were not primitive. Many of the methods they used here for metalwork were still being used on Earth today.

Lady Morgana also excelled at small talk, asking questions about Sam’s home and her family and sharing much in return regarding her place in Meath. At the very least, Sam was certain she had found a friend in the woman and had already been invited back to visit for a more extended stay. One day, Sam thought, she might take Lady Morgana up on that offer.

Lady Morgana had sent Turlough ahead to have the kitchens prepare an early dinner. She was apparently eager to complete the treaty tonight and didn’t want to inconvenience anyone by forcing them to talk about business on an empty stomach.

Minutes after they arrived at the castle, however, Lady Morgana pitched a fit—and a large one at that.

Lady Morgana’s exclamation could he heard outside the Great Hall and its thick stone walls and heavy wooden doors. With her green eyes blazing, she advanced on Turlough with a fury so intense Sam wondered if Lady Morgana had somehow lost her senses.

Sam flashed a quick worried glance at Daniel, Stan, and Paul. Their shocked expressions must have matched hers, as they watched in fascination, unable to turn away from the scene unfolding before them.

“What do you mean he’s missing? What kind of idiocy is this?”

“My Lady, you sent me on ahead...to prepare the evening meal...and he was not with you when you returned,“Turlough tried to explain, stumbling over his words, fear plainly evident in his voice, but Morgana was not listening.

“So, you are blaming me? Why is it that I get blamed for your incompetence?” Her voice was low and dangerous. Lord Kentigern was even standing back, watching and waiting to see where this would lead. Sam didn’t take that as a good sign. All the servants in the Hall had stopped in their tracks; their eyes firmly fixed on the Lady of the manor and the punishment she was about to dispense.

Turlough was sweating and a small stain appeared on his pants, spreading downward to trickle on the floor—drops of yellow mixing with the dust and dirt. Sam tried to turn away, to give this man some privacy from the humiliation Lady Morgana was serving tonight, but she couldn’t. Turlough—a big, brawny, masculine man’s man—was out of his mind with fear. What kind of person was Morgana if she could strike such fear into the heart of a full-grown warrior?

Sam was sickened and she felt, rather than saw, Daniel start toward the two figures that were engaged in this fascinating dance before them. She grabbed Daniel’s arm before he could step more than a foot, shaking her head furiously. No, this was not a time to interfere.

“But—“ Daniel’s protest died on his lips, his eyes going wide.

Sam turned to see Turlough sliding to the floor, blood pouring from the gaping wound in his neck. Lady Morgana hovered over him, a bloody knife in her hand and a look of triumph and determination in her eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Would someone please take this piece of trash away from my sight?” Lady Morgana said, kicking the still warm body of her former servant and guard. Two servants hurried forward, lifting the body, a trail of blood dripping from the corpse as they carried it from the room.

Lady Morgana turned back to the crowd, wiping the knife on her gown, before she tucked the dagger back into its sheath at her waist. Gazing at the shocked faces before her, she offered only a small explanation. “He knew what was required of him and he was well aware of the penalty for not following through. I apologize that you all had to witness this...his punishment. That was not my intent. Please, let us retire to our rooms to allow the staff to prepare the room for us. We still have much to accomplish this night.”

Daniel was shocked—or more accurately aghast—at what had transpired. To Lady Morgana, it was as if nothing had happened. When any self-respecting Lady would be serving tea and crumpets during afternoon tea, this Lady served up something far more dangerous—and deadly.

Vaguely, Daniel heard Stan Kovachek speaking quietly to Lord Kentigern and Lady Morgana. Something about how SG1 would wait for dinner in their quarters. All Daniel could do was stare at the dark puddle on the floor. It was only Sam’s urging and her prodding that got him moving out of the Great Hall and up the stairs toward their rooms. Hywel was leading the way, his face ashen. Apparently, this was bothering more people than just Daniel.

Only once alone in their quarters with the door locked and secured behind them, did they relax a little, sitting meekly on the chairs adjacent to the fireplace. They all looked pale and Daniel knew that he could use the warmth of the fire right about now. The scene continued to play in his mind—especially her chilling disregard for human life.

“Sam, how...how can we even think about making a treaty with these...these...animals?” Daniel asked, the first to speak after an awkward silence settled on them, smothering them like a cold, wet blanket.

“Daniel—“ Sam started, but was cut off by Paul Davis.

“Daniel, you have to realize that we cannot base our conclusions about an entire race of people on the actions of one. If we did that, where would humankind be?” Paul said his voice firm and determined.

“Paul, come on,” Daniel said, pulling the glasses off his face and dropping them on the table. “We just can’t ignore what happened down there. It was...it was murder, for all intents and purposes.”

“Capital punishment, actually,” Stan Kovachek said quietly. “Lady Morgana acted as judge, jury, and executioner. In many cultures, people have been killed for less severe errors in judgement.”

“But...but...that doesn’t mean we have to...to be friends with the likes of...of these people,” Daniel said. He’d gotten up and was pacing around the room, too disturbed to sit still. His hands waved, gesturing widely, trying to emphasize his point.

“Daniel, I can understand your dislike of what happened down there,” Paul started.

Daniel turned suddenly; his face screwed up as if he were in pain. “Dislike? Dislike doesn’t even begin to approach what I’m feeling right now. Disgust would be more like it.”

“Daniel, even I know you are not the naive archeologist you used to be,” Paul said, coming to his feet, his eyes firm and determined. Sam and Stan merely looked on, holding their tongues, waiting to see how this played out. “How many times have you killed a Goa'uld or someone else?”

“But, that’s different,” Daniel argued, refusing to answer the question directly. The number was far higher than he liked—or even imagined—and he remembered each and every occasion. They haunted him in the dead of night, waking him from sleep, shaking and sweating as he relived it over and over again.

“How is it different?”

“I did it out of self defense or to protect a team member,” Daniel retorted.

“Why?” Paul asked, his tone quiet, his head tilted to hear Daniel’s response.

“Why did I protect myself or my team mate? Because...because it’s the right thing to do.”

“According to who?”

“What?” Daniel asked, surprise flickering across his face.

“Who says it’s the right thing to do? You? What if they were rightfully defending themselves against an aggressor—you in this instance?”

“We only fire in self-defense, as a last resort. We’re peaceful—“

“Peaceful my ass, Daniel,” Paul said, his voice rising in volume. “You carry weapons and you know how to use them—quite effectively, or so I’ve been told. Since when do we have the right to impose our ways and our beliefs on the people we meet when we go through the gate?”

Daniel looked down at his shoes, unable to meet Paul’s gaze. “We don’t,” he said quietly.

“Since when do we have the right to tell other races how to run their lives and their villages?” Paul’s voice was quiet now, kinder even. He knew he’d gotten his point across.

“We don’t.”

“So?”

“So,” Daniel said, glancing up, his eyes cold and hard. “I guess we go back downstairs and have dinner and act like nothing happened.” Daniel knew his voice was bitter, but he didn’t care. He was tired and it was time to go home. This hadn’t worked out the way he wanted it to. “And then after dinner, we’ll sit down, finish the treaty and sign it, finalizing our allegiance with these people. We’ll all smile and act like civilized adults because this is the best thing for both of our peoples.”

Daniel looked around at the faces before him—his friends—and rubbed his hand wearily across his face. He started for the door, pausing only to turn and offer a parting remark. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get some fresh air before the farce begins again tonight.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Egan watched from the shadows as Daniel stormed out of his rooms, slamming the door closed behind him. No one would stop Daniel this night. Everyone was too busy with other matters—burying a friend and cleaning up the mess in the Great Hall.

Egan had seen the looks of disgust on the faces of the four strangers—especially on Daniel Jackson. The female, although taken aback by the violence, was more accepting of it. Samantha Carter had seen much in her young life. That much was apparent just by her reaction.

Egan followed Daniel at a discreet distance, silently gliding down the passageways, nodding quietly to servants as he passed.

Daniel was heading outside, Egan surmised, watching Daniel plod down the stairs. He walked out the door without a glance toward the Great Hall.

Would it be wise to follow the young man, to speak with him, to offer assurances on behalf of the people of Meath? In his current state of mind, Egan was doubtful whether or not Daniel would welcome the conversation. Although, Egan thought, stepping outside, pulling his cloak around his muscular frame, there would not be a better time.

Egan nodded his head firmly to himself, following the wake of curious stares as one of the strangers stormed away from the castle.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Daniel Jackson!”

Daniel turned, hearing his voice, and watched as Egan approach him cautiously.

“Good day, Egan,” Daniel said, inclining his head slightly, his tone cold. He hadn’t forgotten his manners, addressing Egan appropriately, but he was hoping Egan would get the message from the tone of his voice. Apparently, things were a little different here.

“Daniel Jackson, I wish to speak with you,” Egan said, stepping close, his voice low so it wouldn’t carry across the square.

“Look, Egan, I’m not really in the mood for a chat,” Daniel said, turning his back to Egan.

“I know you do not look fondly on this people at this time, but it will pass.”

Daniel turned quickly, his eyes dark and brooding. “That’s probably putting it mildly. Somehow I doubt that these feelings will pass. Now, if I may bid you good day,” Daniel said, once again turning to walk away.

“Lady Morgana does not speak for all of us,” Egan said, his voice low and quiet, but carrying to Daniel’s ears, causing him to stop, to listen. “There are things...you should know.”

“Things?” Daniel asked, stepping back to face Egan, his eyes narrowed. “What things?”

“There is more to our simple existence than what meets the eye, Daniel Jackson,” Egan said cryptically.

“Apparently,” Daniel said his sarcasm thick.

Egan took a deep breath. Daniel waited patiently for him to continue. He was curious to see what Egan had to say in his defense. “Daniel, some of us are not who we seem to be,” Egan started, but was cut off when a young boy ran to his side.

“Master Egan,” the boy started without preamble. “Lord Eavan wishes to know if you intend on joining the search parties this night.”

Egan looked down at the youngster kindly, a flicker of emotion passing over his face. “No, I will not be joining the search parties. I must attend Lord Kentigern shortly.”

“Thank you, Master,” the boy said, curtseying as best he could, first to Egan, then to Daniel. “I shall tell Lord Eavan. Good day, Master, my Lord.”

Egan took a moment before he turned back to Daniel. “We are a proud people and our ways may be strange to you, but please believe me when I say that many of us do not condone the actions you witnessed this day.Good day, Daniel. Good day.”

With that comment, Egan turned on his heel, heading back to the castle. Daniel watched him go, awash in emotion. He trusted Egan. He spoke from his heart, Daniel could tell.

There were others, however, whom he did not trust. Lady Morgana was one of them.

After standing alone for a few minutes, collecting his thoughts, Daniel also headed back into the castle, absently watching the search parties gear up. Daniel was sure that they wouldn’t be able to find much in the dark. Even though they had torches, their prey had most likely gone to ground. Morning would bring light and a better opportunity to find whomever it was for whom they searched.

By tomorrow afternoon, Daniel planned to be back in the SGC. Hopefully by then, he’d be able to forget this planet ever existed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Sam, let him go,” Paul said, stopping Sam Carter from walking through the door after Daniel.

“He’s obviously upset, thanks in no little part to you,” Sam said, turning around, her voice cruel.

“Trust me, he’ll be fine. He just needs to get some air, to let it work itself out,” Paul said, watching Carter pace around the room, running her hand through her blonde hair.

“Yeah, and things have worked themselves out just swimmingly, haven’t they?” Carter said, snorting in disbelief.

“Major Carter,” Kovachek said as he stood, his hands clasped behind his back. “The treaty will be completed tonight and these people will become our allies. But, I suspect that that is not what is bothering you.”

Sam Carter glanced up suddenly, her eyes wide. “Nothing’s bothering me, Major. I’m just a little high-strung after that incident downstairs. If you’ll excuse me, I plan to wash up and change for dinner. I suggest you do the same.” A swish of fabric and the closing bedroom door effectively ended the conversation.

Paul looked at Stan Kovachek and offered a shrug.

“Well,” Paul said with a half-smile, “apparently, we’re not too popular tonight.”

“So, I’ve noticed,” Kovachek said, stepping lightly to his bedroom door. “I’m going to pull together the rest of the papers I’m going to need for tonight. You?”

“I think I’m going to sit here, put my feet up, and relax,” Paul said. “It’ll be my first ‘vacation’ in months.”

“Sounds exotic,” Kovachek said, smiling broadly.

Paul returned the grin in turn, as he dropped down to rest in one of the armchairs. “Oh, it is. Don’t kid yourself. Who else could say that they vacationed in a castle in a working medieval village on the other side of the universe?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time Daniel returned to the room, Paul Davis was snoring quietly in front of the fireplace and Stan Kovachek had reams of paper spread across all the flat surfaces in the room. Daniel was actually surprised to find no sheets of paper on Paul himself.

“Hey,” Daniel said, lifting up several sheets to plop down on a chair.

“Hey, Daniel,” Stan said absently, sorting through some of the papers, making notations on others.

“Where’s Sam?”

“Huh?” Stan looked up, his eyes finally focusing on Daniel. “Oh, Sam? Napping, I think. You can check if you want.” Stan turned back to his paperwork.

“Stan, do you need some help with all this?” Daniel asked, gesturing around the room.

“Uh, no. Got everything under control.”

“Really? Sure doesn’t look like it.”

“Oh, but he does. Can’t you tell?” came Paul Davis’ sleepy reply. “I tried to help him before, but he wouldn’t let me.”

“Hey, Paul. Sorry to wake you,” Daniel said quietly as Paul sit up straighter in his chair.

“That’s okay, Daniel. I really should apologize about before,” Paul started to say, but Daniel cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“No, Paul. It was my fault. I overreacted. You were right. It just took me a little while to figure it out,” Daniel said, smiling gently. “We okay?”

“Yeah,” Paul said. He looked Daniel over carefully, before nodding his head. “Yeah, we’re okay, but I know I’m getting hungry. Any word about dinner?”

“It looked like they were still getting things together down there when I came back up,” Daniel said, watching Kovachek prowl around the room looking for a missing sheet of paper. After a beat of silence, Daniel continued speaking, his voice low so as not to carry to the adjoining room. “Is Sam okay?”

“Yeah. She was a little rattled with everything going on. Like you, she needed some time to sort things out for herself.”

“There it is,” Kovachek’s triumphant exclamation came from somewhere in his bedroom, causing the two men in the sitting room to chuckle.

“Is he always like this?” Daniel asked.

“All the times I’ve traveled with him—which haven’t been many—yes, he is,” Paul said, grinning.

The creak of a door signaling Sam Carter’s entrance cut off their chuckling.

“Hey, Sam,” Daniel said, getting up to give Sam his seat. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said absently, rubbing a hand across her face. Her hair was a little rumpled from sleep. She looked up at Daniel a moment later, concern in her eyes. “Are you? You kind of stormed out of here before. I should have gone after you, but the guys said you’d be all right. Are you?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Sam. Like I said, I just needed to get a little air,” Daniel smiled at her, pointing to her hair. “Are you going to fix that before we go to dinner or do I have to stare at that all night?”

“What?” Sam asked, her hands immediately going to her head. She leaped up out of the chair and headed directly into the bathroom. “Oh, God, will you look at that,” she exclaimed a few seconds later. When she emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, most of her hair was damp. It looked as if she had run wet fingers through her hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order.

“Better?”

“Yes, much,” Daniel said, a grin on his face.

A knock sounded throughout the room. “Thanks, Daniel,” Sam said, but moved quickly to the door. Kovachek poked his head out of his room, stacks of paper in his hands.

When Sam opened the door, Nerys stood before them, her hand raised to knock once again.

“Nerys,” Sam said, “please come inside.”

“My lady, my lords,” Nerys said, bowing to them in turn. “I came to inform you that dinner will be served in the Great Hall.”

“Dinner? Already?” Sam said, her hand self-consciously going to feel her damp hair.

“Yes, my lady. Lord Kentigern wishes to have time this evening to complete the alliance.”

“Okay. We’ll be down in a few minutes. Will that be sufficient?” Sam asked. Daniel followed her glance around the room. The suite itself looked like a scene from a bad disaster movie. Daniel was sure that Kovachek would need more than a few minutes to sort through all this.

“Very well, my lady. Lord Kentigern awaits you.”

Daniel watched as Sam turned sharply back to Nerys. “Lord Kentigern awaits us? How about Lady Morgana?”

“No, my lady. She has other duties this night,” Nerys said, bowing her head and closing the door.

“Other duties?” Daniel echoed his tone incredulous.

“That’s what the lady said,” Sam said, stepping to the center of the room, avoiding what paper she could. “Stan, will you be okay with all this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the items littered about the room.

“Yes, Major. It’ll only take me a minute or so to put this together, otherwise I’m ready.” Stan reported and bent down to pick up some of the loose sheets.

“Give me a minute, Sam, and I’ll be ready,” Paul said, moving quickly into the bathroom to freshen up.

“Daniel, how are you doing?” Sam asked, her tone quiet and full of concern.

“I’m okay. I can be ready in a few minutes. You should go and get yourself together,” Daniel said, indicating her wrinkled BDUs.

“Yeah, you too,” Sam said, as she smiled and turned go into her room.

A few minutes later found Sam, Paul, and Daniel waiting as Stan raced around the room gathering the final pieces to his paperwork puzzle.

“Sorry about this,” Stan said, stacking the last few pages on the pile.

“That’s okay,” Sam said, her hand on the doorknob. “We ready?” Everyone answered with a nod and followed Sam through the door.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Daniel was happy to see that the room had been rearranged so they wouldn’t have to stare at the spot where Turlough had stood only a few hours prior. The extra chairs had also been taken away. Apparently, the remainder of the negotiations would be carried out without an audience.

In an effort to lighten the dark mood that had settled on the group, Lord Kentigern related many stories of his childhood, of his growing up in the village. It was hard for Daniel to imagine the stoic man before them participating in the activities—some of them fantastic—which he was describing.

Servants hovered, replenishing the bowls of food on the table, and refilling the glasses of wine and ale. They all ate heartily of the food offered—roasted venison and various cheeses and a rough porridge. It wasn’t the food of feasts, but it was filling and pleasing to the palate.

When they had eaten their fill, Lord Kentigern gestured for the table to be cleared and, only a few moments later, they got down to the business of the treaty.

“I know you all must have reservations about this after what you witnessed this afternoon,” Lord Kentigern began, his expression earnest. “I would, if our places had been reversed. Egan has spent much time with you and I trust his judgement implicitly. He feels that I should do whatever is necessary to reassure you, to convince you, to finish what we have started. “

“Lord Kentigern, I would be lying if I told you that the incident you speak of did not disturb us greatly,” Daniel said, speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But, the actions of a few—or one—cannot be held against the whole. We believe that this alliance would be beneficial for both of our peoples and we would also like to see this through to the end,” he said, glancing at his companions who were nodding their heads in agreement.

“Daniel Jackson speaks for all of us on this matter, Lord Kentigern,” Kovachek said, flashing Daniel a small smile of appreciation. “We are fully prepared to complete the treaty this evening and return to our world tomorrow to present it to our own legislative body.”

“I am pleased,” Lord Kentigern said, smiling gratefully. “I believe there were only a few other points we needed to finalize,” he said, but was cut off when a knock sounded at the door.

Anger crossed Lord Kentigern’s features when the door opened to reveal a tall, lanky man, dressed in dark breeches and a forest green cloak. “Please, pardon the interruption, my Lord,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I know you asked not to be disturbed, but we needed you inform you that the search parties are prepared to depart.”

“Thank you, Eavan, for your report,” Kentigern said, stiffly. “Please tell Nerys that we are not to be disturbed again this night.”

“Yes, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord.” Eavan bowed deeply again and quietly closed the door leaving the room to fall into an uncomfortable silence.

Daniel looked from face to face, uncertain where to begin—wondering if he should say or do anything. A few moments later, Lord Kentigern cleared his throat and looked up with an apologetic smile. “Please pardon the interruption. Where were we?”

“No, we understand you have other duties to perform,” Kovachek said, shuffling some of the papers before him. “I believe we were speaking about some of the details of the research station we’d like to establish.”

The talks went on for some time, enumerating the amount of equipment and people that would be allowed at the site—while also permitting the use of the site as a remote outpost for the SGC in the case of hostilities on Earth.

Lord Kentigern signed the bottom of the document Stan Kovachek had drawn up earlier—after Stan added the other points they had spoken about tonight—with a flourish and a smile. Kentigern stood and took Stan into a huge bear hug—shocking nearly everyone at the table.

“My brothers, let us drink to our alliance,” Kentigern said, stepping over to the sideboard where pitchers of ale and wine sat alongside several empty goblets.

Accepting a glass from Kentigern, Daniel looked at Sam with a self-conscious smile. They had completed the alliance. They should be happy, they should be celebrating, but as they lifted their glasses to toast the beginning of their alliance, Daniel felt none of those emotions. Instead, a deep sense of foreboding fell over him. He put on a bright smile, hoping they couldn’t see the fear and anxiety in his eyes, knowing that the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

There was something wrong. He could feel it, but it was just out of reach. A shiver ran down his back. Something was very wrong. Very wrong, indeed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack had been on the move for some time before he finally spotted the Stargate through the foliage.

Morning hadn’t proved to be kind to him. He woke up to the steady splatter of rain on his face. Great, he thought, just great. I arrive on this planet in the rain and I leave in the rain.

After his breakfast of a single leaf, Jack moved out, appreciating Egan’s gift even more the second day—especially after spending a night on the hard, cold ground. He was tired, exhausted even, and sleeping outside with no equipment was always difficult.

His decision to stay off the main path had proved to be even more problematic once the rain came, making the ground slick and muddy. Over the course of the morning, he’d slipped and fallen several times, managing to get himself covered in a nice coating of mud. Helps me to blend in, Jack thought, smiling to himself. His knee was bothering him, a result of a number of factors—the weather was damp and cold and he had twisted it earlier, trying to stop himself from falling for the fifth time. Instead, he managed to wrench it nicely.

From his vantage point near the ruins, there was no one around the gate, no guards waiting, no nothing. Jack glanced over his shoulder. He had the distinct impression that he was being watched, but there was no one to be seen.

Jack decided it would be in his best interests to check out the neighborhood first, before walking out into the open. He didn’t want to give anyone an easy target.

Traveling quietly, Jack made a wide circuit of the area, looking for signs of a possible ambush.

The fog hadn’t settled in yet, for which Jack was grateful. The forest was very still with only the light tapping of raindrops on the leaves above. It was peaceful, almost too serene for his liking. The forest—the planet itself even—was waiting for something. It was as if it was holding its breath—just as he was.

Sitting back on his heels on the edge of the clearing, Jack stared at the DHD, his ticket off the planet. The area looked clear, as best as he could determine. The DHD looked like it was all in one piece. So, what was he waiting for?

He shook his head and launched himself up, heading directly to the DHD.

Overhead, a lone black raven cried out several times, its cry echoing throughout the valley. Jack looked up, focused on the circling bird overhead. He quickly doubled his pace, limping as fast as he could to the DHD. Something was going to happen and he didn’t want to be here when it did.

He reached for the first glyph, surprised when his hand prickled. Not only did it feel like he’d just gotten a mild electric shock, but it felt like the DHD was covered in something thick. Great, he thought, watch the DHD blow up because of a short circuit or something. He pulled his hand back quickly, looking at the DHD carefully. When it didn’t blow up, he tried the second glyph and then the third.

Jack frowned deeply. There was something different about this DHD. Something strange, but it seemed to be working.

After he entered the third glyph, he started to hear sounds behind him. Someone was coming. Glancing back, he saw the first signs of guards—some coming up the main path, others apparently following his trail. O’Neill quickly entered the fourth and fifth glyphs, keeping an eye on their approach.

It would be close.

A large black raven circled over his head in a tightening pattern.

The sixth glyph locked in and he pressed the seventh.

He slapped the dome on the center of the DHD with his hand and the initial plume of the wormhole rushed out, settling down into its usual blue and white surface.

Jack ran.

Over the rocks and stones, he ran.

Shouts and cries from behind him urged him forward toward the gate and the open vortex.

The raven landed before him on the top step of the gate platform and the unthinkable happened.

He stopped.

Once the raven touched down, the air before him started to shimmer and shift, like heat rising off the pavement in the summer.

From the middle of the tempest, a figure emerged. Jack backed away, his eyes wide in fear. He turned to run, but several guards had come up behind him, effectively cutting off his escape route.

Turning back, he watched as Lady Morgana stepped down off the last step onto the rocky ground.

He was a dead man.

“Hold him and bring him to the edge of the forest. There is no need for us to stand as a spectacle to all,” she said, gesturing to Eavan and two other men. They quickly complied, wrestling with O’Neill as he tried to fight, to somehow get away from his captors. They dragged him to the edge of the forest, to the middle of the stone ruins, throwing him to the ground to kneel at her feet.

With a strong, muscular man on either side of him, holding his arms, holding him in place, he looked up, determined to meet her eyes. He wanted to—needed to—show her that she had not broken him. He needed to show her that he was strong, even stronger than she believed possible.

Her green eyes were cold and unfeeling as they gazed upon him.

“Eavan, do you have the device I requested?”

“Yes, my lady,” Eavan said, stepping forward as he pulled a small metallic object from his pouch. It was smaller than the Goa’uld memory devices Jack remembered from his latest encounter with Hathor, but looked very similar in appearance.

The gate behind him disengaged with its usual snap-hiss, sealing his fate.

“Thank you, Eavan,” Lady Morgana said, smiling at her obedient servant before she turned her attention to the kneeling man before her.

“O’Neill, my beloved, you have displeased me. You thought you would be able to get away from me? You thought you would be able to leave my service? You are dreadfully mistaken. I have many ways to gain your cooperation, but wished I did not have to go to such extreme means.” Lady Morgana paused, her eyes ravaging his body as he knelt before her, restrained and submissive.

“This device will ensure your complete cooperation. It is very simple. It rewards appropriate behavior and inflicts punishment when needed. You will wear it for as long as you live. You will never see your friends or family again. You will never return home. You are mine for all eternity.”

“Yeah, well if you haven’t already noticed, there’s quite a bit of wear and tear on this body. Eternity won’t be that long,” Jack said, trying his best to put up a strong front. She did have a sarcophagus and access to Goa'uld technology. What was going to stop her from keeping him alive for as long as she wanted?

“It is no matter, my love. Once this is in, you shall see that what I speak of is true. Hold him securely. He will fight it,” Morgana said, leaning down to grab his face in her hands.

Jack fought her, trying to move, to escape, but to no avail. He was still weak and they were much stronger than he was—even on a good day. Someone grabbed his head from behind, steadying it, while Morgana placed the cool metal disc on the side of his temple. As soon as it touched his flesh, it dug in, disappearing beneath the surface of his skin, burying itself deep.

O’Neill screamed as the white-hot pain shot through his skull.

Through the pain, he could hear Morgana speaking. He tried to concentrate on her words, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t escape the pain. He couldn’t escape her.

He had nowhere to go.

Despair and hopelessness followed him down as he drowned in the welcoming blackness of unconsciousness.

She had won.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The day dawned dark and gloomy as the team from the SGC made its way downstairs for a late breakfast before they departed. Kelan had poked his head into the room earlier, informing them that breakfast with Lord Kentigern would be served later that hour. Thankfully, he had also brought two pitchers of the warm morning beverage the people of Meath enjoyed. Erskine was a cross between coffee and tea but with a sweeter aftertaste and they had all taken an instant liking to it. Yesterday morning, Sam had asked Nerys if it would be possible to bring some of it home and Nerys had assured Sam that she would secure a bag of the Erskine—along with directions for brewing—for Sam before they departed the following day.

Overnight, a storm front had moved in providing a soaking rain to the area, drenching everything in its path. From the castle windows, the gray sky assaulted their senses and a cold wind whipped the trees into a frenzy. It would not be a pleasant hike back to the Stargate.

Daniel peered out through a window on the upper level, watching the muted activity in the square below. Normally bustling with activity this late in the morning, today a lone man trudged across the empty expanse in the cold rain, driving a small herd of cattle before him toward the stables.

Much to Daniel’s surprise, dinner and the final treaty signing with Lord Kentigern had gone well—despite the pre-dinner entertainment. And after several glasses of ale and wine the night before to toast their new alliance, they had all stumbled back to their quarters in the early hours of the morning, succumbing to the sleep of the dead.

Some woke up with one hell of a hangover. For Daniel, he was thankful that this time it wasn’t him. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt.

“Daniel, are you coming?” Sam called, from the top of the main staircase, the candelabra hanging from the ceiling causing flickering shadows across her face. Paul and Stan glared at her from under darkened eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Daniel replied absently, taking one last look at the lone man and his cattle. It was a simple, uncomplicated existence that Daniel sometimes envied. No worries about the Goa’uld or about treaties or secret projects, just living. Daniel sighed deeply, before moving beside his friend.

Sam looked Daniel over carefully, concern evident in her blue eyes. She placed her hand lightly on his arm, a gesture of fondness. “You okay, Daniel?”

He flashed her a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thinking. You know, I do that from time to time.”

“I know,” she said, smiling compassionately. “We’re just about finished here and then we can go home. Are you ready to go?”

Daniel nodded, starting down the wide curving wooden stairs. “Yeah. I thought I’d give Lord Kentigern...and his wife...their gifts as we were leaving, since I forgot about them the first night. It’ll be a nice 'thank you for letting us stay in your house’ gift. What do you think?” Daniel turned to look at Sam, his eyebrow raised slightly in question.

“I think that would be fine. What do you think Paul? Stan?” Sam asked, speaking loud enough for her voice to carry to the two figures several steps in front of them.

Stan winced visibly. Paul answered for the both of them. “Sounds great, Sam.”

Daniel exchanged an amused smile with Sam. Apparently, someone—or two someones in this instance—knew how to party. Last night, Sam and Daniel had just been glad to see that their host was too far-gone himself to notice the impropriety of the two diplomats. Sam and Daniel had also reached a mutual agreement: there was no need to mention their last little incident with the local liquor.

“Good morning to you all,” Lord Kentigern exclaimed, rising from his place at the head of a long table in the middle of the Great Hall in greeting. Kentigern’s loud salutation echoed through the cavernous room and was greeted by muted cursing from Stan and Paul.

Daniel was grateful that their murmuring didn’t travel to Lord Kentigern’s ears. Lesson one in dealing with the natives: It’s never good to upset the host.

“I hope you have all had a pleasant rest and are rejuvenated for another day with us,” Kentigern said.

Daniel sent a sidelong look over to Sam who was making herself comfortable across from Lord Kentigern. Several servants hovered behind her, prepared to place the morning meal before her.

“Lord Kentigern, good morning to you as well,” Sam said pleasantly, an overflowing plate appearing before her. “Unfortunately, due to the weather, I think it might be best if we leave a little earlier. The storm does not look like it will subside anytime soon and we must return home in a few hours' time.”

Although Lord Kentigern’s exuberant expression fell a little at Sam’s words, his tone was full of understanding. “I know I cannot change a lady’s mind once it has been made up, but I was hoping to convince you to stay until Lady Morgana returned. I know she wished to say her farewells to you in person.”

“Lady Morgana hasn’t returned?” Daniel asked, his fork poised above his plate, the rough porridge dripping from the prongs into the bowl. It seemed like they didn’t do the spoon thing, which made eating a little messy.

“No. None of the search parties have returned. I do not expect them until they have succeeded in their quest. Such is their way,” Kentigern said simply, drinking deeply from his goblet. His plate was already clean. Apparently, they hadn’t arrived in as timely a manner as he liked.

“May I ask...who are they looking for?” Daniel’s head was titled slightly, his eyes demanding an answer. He was sure that Sam, or someone else, was probably shooting him silent messages to get him to shut up, but he had a gut feeling. He just had to know.

Kentigern looked a little bit uncomfortable, fingering his goblet absently, and Paul jumped in immediately. “Lord Kentigern, please excuse my colleague. Sometimes—“

“No, it is fine,” Kentigern said, raising his hand to silence Paul’s objection. “Daniel Jackson has the right to ask.” Kentigern’s eyes locked with each of the SGC team in turn, ending with Daniel before he spoke again, as if he was coming to a decision. “You wish to know, do you?”

Daniel thought for a moment before answering, but the answer was the same. “Yes, I am curious to discover what one man could do to such a mighty Lord as yourself to arouse such a response from your wife and your warriors.”

“Do you remember the first time you graced my presence?”

“Of course,” Daniel said, nodding.

“On that day we were also entertaining a representative from Glyn Cuch, one of the neighboring villages.”

“Yes, I remember you speaking to him at the feast that night,” Sam said, nodding her head, encouraging Kentigern to continue.

“Yes, he is the one of which we speak,” Kentigern affirmed, pausing only to take a long drink of his goblet of Erskine. “We discovered not too long thereafter that his motives were not as honorable as we were led to believe. Instead of bringing peace to our two villages, he was trying to wage war. He had been sent as a spy to discover our secrets, in order to overturn our village and leave it in ruins. We do not take kindly to such men.”

“But, didn’t he come to our treaty negotiations? I thought I saw him enter with Lady Morgana the first night we arrived,” Paul asked, leaning forward on his elbows. To Daniel, Paul’s eyes were clear, his hangover long forgotten. Daniel was glad that he wasn’t the only one who remembered seeing the tall stranger. Daniel, though, was sure no one had actually talked to the man. That little detail he hadn’t shared with anyone and he wasn’t sure he was going to. Something in his gut told him that that was something better left unsaid—at least here.

“You are correct, Paul Davis,” Kentigern said, inclining his head in Paul’s direction. “He has been our guest ever since the first time you laid eyes on him. Since then, we hoped that he had come to an understanding of our ways. He appeared to to his senses. Lady Morgana was very proud since his reeducation was much her project.”

“Reeducation? What does that mean?” Daniel asked, fear swirling in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it could mean, the implications were not good—especially if it was Lady Morgana’s project.

“Very simply, he was educated in our ways and what was to be expected of him. We chose not to kill him immediately. His death would be a waste of a valuable resource. He needed to be convinced that it was in the best interests of everyone—especially himself—to help our people grow stronger.”

“What did she do to him?” Daniel asked, aghast, as his breakfast threatened to reappear in a most embarrassing manner. “Was it torture? Mind control? What did she do to him?” Daniel’s tone was unwavering. Disgust dripped from his tongue. He knew he should have tempered his comments, but in this instance, he didn’t know how. So much about not angering the host, Daniel thought, absently realizing that he didn’t care.

“I do not know,” Kentigern said simply, shrugging his shoulders in a dismissive manner. His tone turned condescending, his eyes as hard as steel. “I do not concern myself with what our high priestess does. She answers to a much higher authority, our God Lugh. I do not have the right to command her in the execution of her duties, just as she does not command me in civil matters.” Kentigern pushed back his chair and stood, gesturing for a servant to bring his cloak. “Please, excuse me. I must check on the status of the search parties. I will return shortly to bid you my final farewell before you depart. Good day to you.”

Kentigern strode from the Great Hall and the door closed behind him, leaving the room in a strange silence. The echo of the closing door sounded peculiar, bouncing weirdly off the stone walls and tapestries.

Daniel eyed the rest of his team warily, wondering if they had come to the same conclusions that he had. From the looks on their faces, they were all in agreement: they had made a deal with the devil. These people were savages, barbarians even, and not to be crossed even in the smallest of matters.

But, right now, all Daniel could think of was the encounter he had had the day before in one of the darkened rooms. He could still hear the sound of the stranger’s voice, rough and barely above a whisper, crackling like dry autumn leaves, asking, pleading, and begging for Daniel’s help. The desperation in the man’s eyes was haunting him—especially now. Especially now that he knew just from what that man had been running.

Daniel finally broke the stillness that had grown deeper between them as each team member was lost in their own thoughts. “I only have one question. What will they do to him once they find him?”

“I don’t know, Daniel. I just know that I wouldn’t want to be him,” Paul said, all thoughts of breakfast gone, his plate pushed to the middle of the table to join the other three already there.

Stan cradled his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. “Was this a good idea?” Stan asked, his voice muffled. “Was this treaty such a good idea?”

“I hope so. I hope so,” Daniel muttered, his eyes locked on Sam’s.

A few beats of silence passed before Sam finally spoke up. “I think it’s time to go. Let’s get our things and go home.”

The sound of their scraping chairs echoed through the room as they each pushed back away from the table. Servants descended on the room in rivers, clearing the now empty table as the SGC team quietly filed out of the room without even a backward glance.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Egan was waiting for them in the foyer when they walked downstairs an hour later, their packs in hand. Without a word, he bowed deeply, gesturing for them to enter the Great Hall through the open doors on the right of the foyer.

The room had been changed once more, appearing as it first had when they arrived. Lord Kentigern sat regally on the dais, the chair beside him strangely vacant. They left their bags just outside the door before approaching Kentigern.

The walk up the grand carpet seemed to take forever—especially with Kentigern’s cool gaze watching their every move.

Sam bowed deeply to Kentigern once she got within the appropriate distance, and the rest of her team quickly followed suit. Kentigern acknowledged them with a curt nod, his face expressionless. Sam feared for the worst.

“Lord Kentigern, thank you again for your kindness,” Sam began but Kentigern cut her off with the wave of her hand.

“Major Carter, it is I who should be thanking you,” Kentigern said.

Sam sent Daniel a quick look of surprise before she spoke. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“We have not been the best of hosts to you, but you all have been most understanding and kind. In your place, I do not know if I would be as patient. You approached us looking for an ally and, instead, we have made you feel uncomfortable. For this, I must apologize on behalf of the people of Meath.” Kentigern bowed his head toward Sam, who immediately accepted his apology and launched into the speech Daniel had helped her prepare, coaching her on what to say with the help of Kovachek.

“You need not apologize. But, on behalf of Earth and the SGC, we look forward to a most beneficial friendship between our two peoples. And in the name of friendship and our alliance,” Sam said, gesturing Daniel to step forward. “We’d like to present these small tokens to you and your wife.”

Daniel carefully placed the two boxes in Kentigern’s hands, before pacing back to stand beside Sam. So far, so good, Sam thought, watching as a variety of emotions flickered across Kentigern’s face—all of them positive.

Kentigern carefully opened each box and reverently removed the items, his face bright with joy.

“Thank you. I am regretful that Lady Morgana could not be here to receive this exquisite broach from you herself. I know she will be disappointed she did not have the opportunity to thank you in person. Please take my sincere thanks on behalf of both of us.” Kentigern carefully laid the opened boxes on the chair beside him, before he stepped down the stairs to embrace Sam and Daniel warmly. Stan and Paul stepped forward and received enthusiastic handshakes from Kentigern as well.

“I look forward to our meeting once again. You are always welcome in Meath. Travel well and be safe,” Kentigern said, smiling pleasantly.

“Thank you, Lord Kentigern, for the hospitality of your home and your good wishes,” Daniel said with a strained smile. Paul and Stan echoed similar sentiments before they finally turned to leave, walking into the foyer as the doors to the Great Hall closed with a quiet thud.

A few minutes later and they were geared up, rain parkas and all. This time, no one would be accompanying them back to the Stargate. The weather had grown worse, the wind picking up to whip the rain, driving it sideways at times.

Although Nerys tried to convince them, Sam insisted that a guide was unnecessary. They could find their way back, and besides, the village needed those few men who had remained behind. Meath was empty enough as it was. There was no need to send more people out into this weather.

The hike back to the Stargate was uneventful with each member of the team finding solace in his or her own thoughts. For Sam, the rain and the wind was the perfect ending to a mission that had gone horribly wrong. While they had accomplished their goal, the treaty signing, she had mixed feelings. The deeper they dug, the more skeletons they uncovered. The people of Meath were more than they appeared to be—that much was certain. But just how far would they go in their own defense? And, how had they defeated the Goa'uld? No one had said. No one had uttered a single word on the subject.

Sam chanced a look at Daniel and found him studying her, his eyebrows drawn together. He flashed her a quick smile that she returned in kind, before turning back to the path before him, watching his footing on the slippery track.

This had been a hard mission for Daniel most of all, she thought, glancing ahead at Stan Kovachek and Paul Davis. Daniel always looked for the best in people and there were times when the bad seemed to outweigh the good—just like now. She wished that there were something she could do or say that would make everything right. She wished she could just erase the last two days from his mind—from her mind. Maybe, then, they’d be able to get some peace.

*~*~*~*~*~*

He was being carried.

It was a strange sensation to wake up upside down, hanging over someone’s shoulder, his arms fully extended, and his legs held firmly somewhere above him. He imagined his face must be beet-red, the blood rushing to his hands and face in his awkward position. Jack tried lifting his head to see where he was and where he was going, but he couldn’t see much except raindrops and a dizzying view of the scenery as it bounced around. His movement only alerted his captors to the fact that he was awake—and someone was paying attention. The call went out quickly.

“Lady Morgana, he awakens.”

“Good. Put him down.” Lady Morgana’s voice came drifting over the air, muffled by the rain that soaked everything in its path.

Moments later, he was dropped onto his side on the soggy ground, barely able to cushion his fall. Lovely, he thought with a grimace, rolling onto his back and flinging mud from his fingertips before trying to wipe the mud from his face.

Of course they had to drop me in the mud. At least the rain will help to wash some of it away, he thought. He used the brief moment to look around, but all he could see were feet, legs, and up above, tree limbs. Not much of a view.

After a moment, he was roughly pulled up into a seated position, his legs splayed out before him. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Jack said, indignantly, trying to shrug off the hand on his arm, but it wasn’t letting go. Sending a perturbed look at the hulking man at his side, he turned his attention to the figure that had stepped up before him, not surprised that it was Lady Morgana herself. “Oh, for crying out loud. When are you just going to go away?”

Instead of answering him, she turned her attention to the man at Jack’s side. “Eavan, I want him on his feet.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Eavan said, immediately pulling Jack roughly upright.

Jack groaned as gravity reasserted itself on his limbs and his head spun a little. It was the little things that always made the difference, he thought, trying to focus his attention on the approaching figure. Gravity.

Pins and needles in his arms.

Equilibrium—or his lack thereof.

Double images.

Morgana closed the gap between them, stopping just short of stepping on Jack’s toes. Her green eyes drilled into his, demanding him to focus, demanding him to answer. “Just what do you think you were doing running away from me?”

Jack tried to break her gaze, but couldn’t. Instead, he offered as flippant an answer as he could think of under the circumstances. “Didn’t care for the room service. Sorry,” he said with an insincere smile.

Her solid slap across his face rocked him back on his heels. The hands gripping his upper arm helped keep him on his feet. But, a slow rage began to boil just beneath the surface. He could feel it starting from the soles of his feet, rising to the top of his head. If he could get his hands around her pretty little neck, he could snap it in a second, he thought, measuring the distance with his eyes. He knew hundreds of ways to kill using his hands. He didn’t even have to come up with something creative. Dead was dead in anyone’s book.

As soon as the thought popped into his mind, however, a white-hot fire ran through his mind and he found himself on his knees gasping for breath a moment later.

What the hell was that?

He was yanked to his feet once again.

“That was just one demonstration. Are you ready for another?” Morgana asked simply, her expression cold and calculating. Even though the cold rain poured down, matting her red hair to her skull and along the side of her face, she didn’t pay attention to it. Her long taupe dress covered by a dark blue cloak clung to her body, hugging each of her curves. It was soaked through—as was everyone else—but she didn’t care. To her, it could have been a mild sunny day instead of the Noreaster-like weather they were experiencing.

“What?” Jack asked, trying to pull his thoughts together. He was still unsteady on his feet and was thankful that someone was holding him up—actually two someones—otherwise he’d have ended up back on the ground in an ungainly pile. Standing was better.

“How did you like to see your team sitting beside me?” Morgana asked, a cruel smile on her lips, her tone mocking. Vaguely, Jack realized that she was enjoying herself. That never boded well.

“What? My team? What do you mean?” Jack said, as memories of the last few days filtered into his muddled brain. Images of their faces swam before him—Daniel...Carter...

This time he screamed when the pain ripped through his mind.

When he came back to his senses, he was on his knees once again, rocking back and forth, his hands holding his head. He was muttering under his breath. “Make it stop, make it stop.”

“The only way it will end is if you stop thinking about it,” Morgana said quietly, whispering in his ear, the voice of reason in a storm of pain and anguish.

“What did you do to me?” Jack asked, pulling his mind away from thoughts of his team and his home, finally finding the strength to concentrate on the here and now, his living nightmare.

“It’s a present from the Goa'uld,” Morgana said leaning back so he could focus on her face. “This device attaches to the victim’s brain, sending out fibers and tendrils, fusing itself into the brain tissue. It has control over the pain and pleasure centers of your brain and can differentiate between thoughts. It can tell when you’re lying and when you’re telling the truth. Of course, I’ve modified it slightly,” Morgana said, a chilling smile on her lips.

“How?” Jack asked, misery dripping from every word. He had to know. Might as well get the whole ball of wax now. Why wait for the surprises later?

Morgana lifted her right hand to display a single bracelet tight against her slim wet wrist. “With this, I can read your thoughts, even at a distance. And, if I don’t like what I see...” she said with an evil smile, raising her other hand to press a single button on the side of the bracelet.

A wave of pain washed over Jack and he struggled to remain conscious. A few seconds later it vanished, as if it had never existed. Jack took a shuddering breath as realization dawned.

He was never going home.

*~*~*~*~*~*

With her boots clanking on the metal ramp, Sam Carter led her team home safely and flashed her commanding officer as confident a smile as she could muster—under the circumstances.

“SG1, welcome home. I hope your mission was a success,” General Hammond’s voice echoed off the concrete and metal surfaces of the SGC gateroom.

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, handing her dripping wet P90 and sidearm to the waiting Lieutenant who looked at the filthy weapons in disgust. She didn’t care. They were home and she could breathe a sigh of relief. As soon as Kovachek stepped through, the gate shut down, plunging the room into the glaring brightness of the artificial overhead lighting.

“Good. Get checked out. Your mission debriefing is in two hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Sam said, stepping down from the ramp and heading for the infirmary, the rest of the team close behind. After walking for two hours in the cold driving rain, the only thing she really wanted to do was jump into a nice hot shower, but the post-mission medical checks always took priority.

“Sam,” Daniel said when they reached the elevator. Daniel was painfully shifting the load on his back, but only managed to wince more. Sam tried to bite back a smile. She didn’t even remember Daniel cracking open one of those books that he carried in his pack. “I’m just going to drop my pack in my office before we go see Janet. I don’t want to carry this any longer than I have to. Actually, I’m not sure if I can carry it much more.”

“Major Carter, I’d also like to stop in my office,” Kovachek said. “I’d rather have these papers in my office. I don’t want to risk losing them.”

“Sure, but be quick. I’m going to stop by my lab as well. Paul, you are welcome to follow along with any one of us,” Sam said turning to face Davis.

“I think I’ll head right to the infirmary, Sam, if that’s okay with you. I have to report in to the President and the Joint Chiefs, the sooner the better,” Davis said, as the elevator doors opened before them.

“That’s fine, but I expect to see you at the team debriefing,” Sam said.

“I plan on being there.”

“Okay. We’ll meet in the briefing room in a little less than two hours,” Sam said, as the elevator stopped at Level 21 to deposit Davis. “This should be an interesting debrief.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur for Jack O’Neill. Every now and then, he’d find himself on his knees, gasping, as the pain took his breath away. It was mind boggling the number of times he thought about home, his team, and trying to escape—and how he was going to kill Morgana. But every time he did, all he was rewarded with was pain and agony.

By the time they got back to the castle, he was soaked to the bone from the pouring rain and exhausted—mentally and physically. He was surprised, though, when Morgana led him up the stairs into a different section of the castle, away from the stairs that led to the dungeon that had been his home. Instead, he found himself standing in a small suite of rooms—a bedroom, sitting room, and bath—looking down over the castle’s entrance and the bustling town square.

Glancing at Morgana in surprise, he discovered that he had nothing to say.

“There is no need for you to be uncomfortable for the rest of your stay with us,” Morgana said, answering his unspoken question.

He looked at her for several moments before finally dropping his head, a gesture of defeat. “Thanks.”

“My rooms are next door,” she said, indicating a door to the right of the fireplace with her hand. “If you require anything, you may ask me or call for a servant using the cord next to the door. There are new clothes hanging in the closet of your bedroom. Make use of them.” She glided around the room, checking the quarters, absently running her hand along the wall. “The device in your mind allows you a certain freedom. You are permitted to walk the grounds and the village, but you cannot leave the walls of the city. Any thoughts of escape or destruction of any property will be punished immediately.”

Morgana stepped back to the door leading to the hallway, but paused before she stepped through. “There really is no need for you to suffer any longer. Why dwell on the past when your future holds so much more promise?”

With a swish of fabric, she was gone, the door closing behind her, leaving Jack alone.

He dropped bonelessly into an armchair, letting the fabric and cushions envelop his cold, trembling body. He tried to clear his mind, but his thoughts kept going back to his home, his family, and his team. Time and time again, he found himself coming to his senses several minutes later, gasping for breath, and holding his head, waiting for the pain to subside.

It wasn’t as if he could turn off his thoughts like a faucet. He couldn’t help it. They were part of him—just as much a part of him as this device now was.

Exhausted, his eyes fluttered closed and he fell into a dreamless sleep, his tormented body and soul finally finding a measure of peace in his slumber.

*~*~*~*~*~*

General Hammond glanced up at the slight tapping on his doorframe. Major Paul Davis stood hesitantly in the doorway, his hand raised to knock again.

“Major,” Hammond said, closing his laptop and gesturing for the Major to take a seat. “I’m glad you were able to stop here before you left the mountain. I know they are anxious in Washington to hear your report in person.”

Davis smiled weakly, the exhaustion finally settling in. “I didn’t want to leave before speaking with you, General,” Davis said. “I made some discreet inquires with a number of the staff and the people of Meath, but I was unable to gain any information about Colonel O’Neill. I’m sorry, Sir. I wish I had better news for you.”

Hammond sighed, realizing that this had been his last hope. “I know you tried your best, Major.”

“Sir,” Davis began, hesitating a little before continuing. “I hate to sound negative, but in all likelihood, Colonel O’Neill is probably dead. Anything could have happened—even an unfortunate accident. We both know the Colonel and if he were alive, I know there would have been some sign, something to indicate that he was there.”

“I know, Major,” Hammond said, his mouth set in a firm line. “Thank you for taking the time and effort to investigate this matter. I, too, wish it had resulted in a better outcome. I know you have a plane to catch, so I won’t keep you any longer. Have a safe flight back to Washington.”

Davis rose from his chair, adjusting the jacket of his uniform. “Thank you, Sir.”

Davis offered Hammond a brisk salute before turning on his heel and striding out the door leaving Hammondwith his troubled thoughts. Hammond sighed deeply, wiping a hand across his weary face. A beat later he rose to his feet. There was work to be done and he had a briefing to attend.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam Carter stepped briskly into the briefing room on level 28 to find Daniel dry, dressed in blue, and slumped at the table, his hands cradling a steaming mug of coffee. She glanced at him briefly and, when he didn’t move to acknowledge her presence, she dropped her notes and folders on the table, making a loud slapping sound.

Daniel didn’t even bat an eye.

Sam moved efficiently to the sideboard, pouring herself a cup of coffee and keeping an ever-watchful eye on her teammate and her friend. He was worrying her.

“Daniel?” Sam asked, stepping back up to the table, her voice full of concern. Placing her cup down on the table next to her notes, she walked around the briefing room table to lay her hand on his shoulder, squatting down so she was at his eye-level. “Daniel, are you okay?”

A few moments later, Daniel finally turned his head, his eyes slowly focusing in on her face, finally recognizing her presence. “Oh, hi Sam,” he said without enthusiasm.

“Daniel, what’s wrong?” She wasn’t one to give up easily. Some called her tenacious and determined; others called her just plain pigheaded stubborn. Either way, it made no difference. Some things she just couldn’t leave alone.

“Nothing, Sam. Why do you ask?”

Sam didn’t think it possible, but Daniel looked even worse dry and warm than he had two hours ago dripping wet, his hair plastered to his head. There were dark circles under his eyes and waves of anguish and guilt—why guilt, she wondered—rolled off him. There was something he wasn’t telling and with General Hammond due at any moment, this wasn’t the time or the place to get into it.

“You just don’t seem yourself, that’s all,” Sam said simply, finding her feet as Teal’c and General Hammond walked in from separate doors.

“I’m glad to see you all here, SG1,” Hammond said, sitting down in his customary place at the head of the briefing room table, while Teal’c seated himself beside Sam. “We can get started.”

“Sir, if I may I ask,” Sam said, glancing around the room. “Where are Major Kovachek and Major Davis?”

“Major Kovachek will be along shortly. Doctor Fraiser delayed him. I spoke with Major Davis briefly before he left for Washington. He will not be joining us,” Hammond answered briskly, getting down to business. “SG1, what can you tell me about your mission? It was apparently a success, but you seem more subdued than usual.”

Sam chanced a glance at Daniel, who was busy studying his fingernails. Without Kovachek and Davis, she was the nominated spokesperson for the group—albeit by default. She cleared her throat as she tried to organize her thoughts. “Well, sir,” she began, only to be interrupted when Kovachek walked in the door.

Hallelujah. Saved by the entering Major.

“Sorry, General Hammond, Major, Doctor, Teal’c,” Kovachek said, indicating everyone with a nod of his head as he slid in the seat next to Daniel, who barely acknowledged his arrival.

“I’m glad you could join us, Major Kovachek. I trust everything is well,” Hammond said.

“Yes, sir. Dr. Fraiser just wanted to run an extra check on my blood work. I think Major Davis got similar treatment.”

“Very well. We were just beginning. Major Kovachek, perhaps you’d like to start?”

“Sure,” Kovachek agreed, and without even a second thought, launched directly into his report. “The mission to P5X-171 was very much of a success. Lord Kentigern was very welcoming and accommodating with our requests for mining rights, the establishment of a research station and a secondary SGC base, and a general cultural exchange, among other things. Primarily, he was looking for gate information—addresses to friendly worlds for trade, a general Stargate education for his people, and other items including medicines and technology.”

Kovachek glanced up from his notes, meeting Hammond’s level gaze across the table. “Overall, sir, I think we managed to get more than what we asked for. I’d say we made out like a bandit,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and looking around the table apparently for support from Carter and Daniel. Teal’c was pensive, his hands steepled before him.

“Major Carter, what are your observations?” Hammond said once a silence fell over the group.

“Well, sir,” Sam said, trying to order her thoughts, trying to keep her feelings out of it. “Although the people of Meath are less technically advanced than we are, they have a lot they can offer us in terms of organic medicines and...as...a cultural...model. But, I’m sure Dr. Jackson could tell you more about that aspect of our mission,” Sam said, her eyes firmly fixed on Daniel’s uninterested form. His only movement: the constant spinning of a solitary pen.

When Sam’s broad hint for Daniel to join the briefing didn’t cut through his silent musings, General Hammond cleared his throat before he spoke in his most authoritative voice. “Doctor Jackson.”

Daniel’s head shot up immediately, his eyes wide in surprise. “Yes, sir?” He asked meekly. The pen continued to spin between his long, nimble fingers.

“I’m glad you could join the briefing. Major Carter was speaking about their culture. Would you be kind enough to elaborate a little more on the subject?” Hammond’s tone was unmoving, his eyes firm and penetrating.

Daniel shifted minutely in his chair, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “Ah, the ah...people of Meath represent one of the best preserved...ah...the best preserved representations of Celtic Europe. A team of anthropologists would benefit from a long-term study of the inhabitants.”

“That’s it?” Hammond sounded amazed at Daniel’s utter lack of verbosity. Normally, Sam knew that they had a hard time shutting him up when it came to discussing the various cultures and peoples they found. This time, he was less than enthusiastic—and it showed.

Daniel nodded. “Yes, I think so. Once I get the chance to go through my digital recordings, I may have a little more to add.” The pen in his hands twirled around in an intricate dance.

“Doctor Jackson did something happen while you were there to so drastically change your outlook on Lord Kentigern? I seemed to remember that it was you who pushed to have this treaty arranged—despite my unwillingness for such an arrangement.”

The pen stopped. Daniel looked up, his eyes meeting Sam’s. She shrugged slightly, her expression guarded.

“You could say that,” Daniel finally said, sighing deeply.

Hammond looked from face to face, trying to get the answer, his face full of questions. His voice, though, was firm and demanding. “What happened, people?”

“They weren’t what we thought they were,” Daniel said after a few moments of silence.

“Is that it? They didn’t measure up to your expectations?” Hammond was not a happy camper. Sam could tell, seeing the signs of his displeasure in his slowly reddening face. If someone didn’t give him a straight answer—and soon—they were in for a spectacular display—the likes of which no one had witnessed in quite some time.

“Sir,” Sam said, drawing Hammond’s attention to her. “It’s more than that. It seems we might have been misled...a little...during our initial encounter.”

“And how might that have been?”

“We finally saw them for the savages they really are,” Daniel said, the words dripping with contempt.

“Doctor Jackson, would you care to explain that comment?” The General was not a happy man.

“If you don’t meet up to their...their ideals...or...or rules they’ll reeducate you,” Daniel said, leaning forward, his glasses swinging from his fingers, passion behind his words. “Or, or if that wasn’t bad enough, God forbid you if you forget to do something. They might just slit your throat.”

Hammond’s eyes narrowed, his face becoming stone-like. “Major, is that true?”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yes, sir. It seems that they have some very extreme measures for dealing with what we would consider small mistakes. And when it comes to enemies of the state, they, apparently, have some very definite...ways of getting their cooperation.”

“You saw this?” Hammond was shocked and the outrage showed on his face and in his voice.

“Partially,” Sam said with a small bend of her head in Daniel’s direction. “Lady Morgana corrected one of her servants in the Great Hall, slitting his throat in front of us and several of the house stewards,” Sam admitted. “As for the rest, we are just surmising what they do. We didn’t actually see anything...”

“But you didn’t have to?” Hammond concluded, his face turning grim at Sam’s affirmative nod. He drew a deep breath before he spoke again. “What is your recommendation regarding this treaty? Do we abide by it or do I take this planet out of our dialing program?”

“What about Colonel O’Neill?”

Hammond’s head snapped around to face Daniel. “What about him?”

“You can’t just write the planet off like it never existed,” Daniel said, his body and voice strangely resigned to the inevitable conclusion. “We can’t just forget about Colonel O’Neill.”

“Isn’t that what we have already done?” Teal’c asked, his quiet voice cutting through the emotionally charged atmosphere in the briefing room.

“Major Kovachek, what were you able to find out?” Hammond asked, his voice low.

“I did place some discreet inquiries regarding Colonel O’Neill,” Kovachek admitted, much to Sam’s surprise. No one had mentioned to her that he had an additional agenda for the mission. “No one seemed to remember anyone fitting his description ever entering the village. Major Davis, I believe, had similar results from his inquiries. Maybe SG1 had an encounter with some of the inhabitants of Glyn Cuch before they even reached Meath. Maybe they had something to do with Colonel O’Neill’s disappearance and SG1’s memory lapse,” Kovachek shrugged, offering a possible solution.

“No. Definitely not. We’d remember meeting someone else.” Daniel was adamant, his eyes flashing angrily.

“And how could you be so sure, Daniel?” Kovachek shot back. “The entire control room watched the four of you leave, but only three of you returned. Something happened over there. Something or someone made you forget.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel dropped into the chair at his office desk two hours later, exhausted from the briefing. General Hammond had made them go over every step of their mission to Meath. It had been worse than spending all day at the dentist’s office. The General also wanted them to remain on the base for the next 48 hours before he’d let them go home. He wanted to give Doctor Fraiser the time she needed to get all the tests back on their blood work.

It was still relatively early in the evening, seven something Daniel noted, but he discovered that he didn’t have much of an appetite. Actually, thinking about it now, he hadn’t had much of an appetite since breakfast. Go figure, he thought, a grimace crossing his face as the memories of the morning’s meal surfaced.

He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, trying to relax. The musty smell of his old books filled his nostrils, grounding him in the here and now. He felt safe here. He was home. All he was missing was a cup of coffee with the smell wafting up to caresses his senses, but he wasn’t even in the mood for that.

Daniel pulled the glasses off his nose, rubbing at his closed eyes, pressing the heel of his hand on the bridge of his nose, trying to dull the pain that was threatening to lodge itself in his sinuses.

His backpack was on his lab table, its contents spilling onto the hard surface. He’d have to put the books back sooner or later, he thought, looking accusingly at the volumes poking out from the material of the bag.

A few moments later, he got up from his chair, a decision finally made. He’d start by organizing his pack and then he’d move on to the recordings he’d made. It was never too early to start his formal written report for General Hammond. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anywhere else to go.

He resigned himself to the task, digging into his pack. What his hand encountered first was not his volume on the history of the Celts, but instead, a small leather bag tied tightly closed with a cord.

This wasn’t here before, Daniel thought, turning the item over and over in his hands, the supple leather warming with the heat of his hands.

Curiosity got the better of him and he loosened the cord securing the bag closed, letting another smaller pouch and a folded piece of paper drop into his hand. Placing the two leather pouches on his lab table, he opened the letter with trembling hands.

He read it twice, the words filling his mind with dread. Without taking his eyes from the page open before him, he moved to the phone on his desk, the fingers of his right hand dialing a familiar number, the handset cradled in the crook of his neck.

“Sam?” he said once the call was answered. “I think you should come up here. No, I’ll tell you when you get here.”

Daniel dropped the phone back in the cradle, his fatigue forgotten.

Their first clue to this ever-deepening mystery had finally emerged—from a surprising source.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“And you got this where?” Doctor Janet Fraiser asked, her voice full of skepticism as she fingered the small leather pouch Sam had deposited in her hand.

“Daniel found it in his pack when he was going through it,” Sam answered, dropping down to sit in one of Janet’s office chairs. Sam and Daniel had gone directly to her office after they had had time to digest Daniel’s finding.

“And what do you think this is?” Janet asked.

“We think it might have something to do with the memory lapses we suffered when we first got back from P5X-171,” Daniel said, his eyes filled with excitement. “According to the note, the substance in the pouch is usually steeped in water and served to the unsuspecting victims as a tea, but a more concentrated form could also be inhaled as a gas. I guess kind of along the lines of chloroform. It is supposed to make the victim open to suggestions.”

“Are you saying that this is some kind of hypnotic drug?” Disbelief filled Janet’s voice, her eyes wide. Janet had seen a lot over the years and it was hard to surprise her anymore. They, apparently, had.

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“And you got all this from a note that was left in your bag?”

“Yes,” Daniel said.

“And who was this note from?”

“Well, Daniel thinks it’s from Egan,” Sam admitted, looking at Daniel for confirmation. He nodded firmly.

“You think?” Janet was not impressed.

“Janet, can you just test it and see if it will do what they said it will?” Sam asked, exasperated by her friend’s reticence.

“Very well,” Janet said, rising from her desk. “I’ll send it down to the lab and see what they can come up with. I probably won’t get anything until tomorrow sometime. Most of the lab technicians have gone home for the evening. They’ve been working round the clock on some of the other stuff you and SG5 brought back.”

Janet stopped by the door to her office, turning to face them, her expression softening. “If there’s anything, I’ll be sure to let you know immediately. Now, why don’t you go and get some sleep. You’ll think better in the morning after a few hours’ rest.”

Sam and Daniel looked at each other, coming to the same conclusion. “We’re really not tired,” Sam said answering for the both of them.

“I don’t care if you’re not tired,” Janet said, her voice firm, her eyes narrowing at Sam. “Do I have to make it an order?”

“No, you don’t,” Sam said with a sigh, reluctantly giving into Janet’s command.

“Good.”

As Janet walked away, Sam mumbled under her breath, a half-amused smile on her face, her tone teasing. “Neapoleonic power monger.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

After he walked Sam to her on-base quarters, Daniel found himself too wired to sleep.

The note in his pack had hinted that something had been done to them the first time they were on P5X-171—the very first night they were there. It didn’t elaborate, but Daniel had got the general drift. Someone, using the ingredients available and some powerful mental suggestions, had managed to do something to SG1. Apparently, that something involved their mystery fourth team member—one Colonel O’Neill—and their inability to remember anything about him.

At first, Daniel thought that was preposterous, but then he recalled two things: they were dealing with weird, alien ingredients and a totally alien race. Who knew what they were capable of doing.

Daniel meandered through the base, his thoughts as restless as his spirit. Eventually, he ended up at the door to his office, a little unclear about how he’d got there. He paused for a moment before entering.

He moved efficiently around the room, turning on a small lamp. He rolled his television table over toward his office couch and retrieved his digital recorder from his pack before he settled down, attaching the wires to the appropriate connection ports. A few minutes later, he found himself staring at the gate on P5X-171, watching carefully as they started their hike to the village several days ago.

He frowned, leaning forward to adjust some of the settings. Once he got down to watching it—really watching it—he didn’t want any interference. It had to be perfect.

He scrolled ahead quickly, the images on the screen moving comically in fast-forward. Whatever he wanted to see was in Meath, not along the way.

Eventually, they reached Meath and Daniel slowed down the recording to normal speed, sitting close to the screen, stopping it, rewinding it—examining every inch of his recording.

Daniel went through it three times that night, making notations in his field journal as he watched the tape, taking note of everything he saw along the way.

Eventually, Daniel shut the television off and turned off the lights, settling down on his couch, his body stiff and sore from tension and his intense concentration.

As his breath evened out in slumber, he sighed softly, sleep finally overtaking him.

This night, though, he dreamed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack jerked himself awake, looking around uneasily, unfamiliar with his surroundings. Moonlight illuminated the room strangely, the cold blue-white light at odds with the warmer tones of the raging fire before him.

Someone had removed his boots, lifting his feet to rest on another chair, and a blanket had been placed over his body. Jack blinked his eyes, trying to remember, trying to recall how he got there. Images came back slowly, the walk back from the Stargate, the words of Lady Morgana, her thin little neck between—

“Ah, God,” he grumbled a few moments later, the pain passing slowly, the memories fully restored. He remembered everything now.

He pulled the blanket off his body to stand—swaying a little on his feet—trying to stretch some of the kinks out of his back. His clothes were more or less dry—stiff in spots from crusted, dried mud that cracked and fell to the floor in small clumps.

“Whoops,” Jack said quietly, insincerely, looking at the stained chair and the debris on the floor.

He started perusing his quarters, poking his head and hands into the drawers and closets, sticking his fingers in the basin of water in the bathroom, sniffing the bar of soap on the counter, patting the pile of towels, pushing aside the tapestries to see what they covered. No hidden passageways here, he thought absently, fingering the thick, coarse fabric of the tapestry by the hallway door.

He peered outside and was shocked to find the hallway empty. No guards, he thought, his eyebrows rising insurprise. It would be easy just to walk out the door and right back to the Stargate. All he had to do was dial Chulak and then he’d borrow Bra’tac’s GDO and he’d hop right back to Earth. Simple. Easy. Piece of cake.

Or so he thought.

He woke up several minutes later, sprawled on the floor just inside the doorway, his hands clutching his head in agony. “Okay. That wasn’t what I had in mind,” Jack grumbled, gritting his teeth as he finally managed to find his feet. He would have ended back on the floor if he hadn’t steadied himself on the wall. Jeez Louise, he thought, rubbing his right hand against his temple, above the small scar he now carried.

Not only did the device hurt, but also, he thought he might have hit his head on the way down. At least, that’s what it felt like as his probing fingers found a small knob on the back of his head.

Great, he thought with a sneer, knock yourself out, why don’t you. Like you haven’t been through enough.

He walked back into the small bathroom, eyeing the basin of lukewarm water warily. Common sense won out, however. Before getting into bed, it would be best to clean off some of the dirt and grime, even though the lighting wasn’t the greatest.

Jack stepped back into the main room and grabbed an unlit torch from its place on the wall. Holding it in the flames of the fire, he lit it, and carried it back to the bathroom, placing it in the appropriate location.

A few minutes later, a much cleaner O’Neill poked his head out the door, checking to make sure the room was clear. He dashed into the bedroom, a meager excuse for a towel around his waist, and rummaged through the closet, eventually finding something suitable to wear.

He moved the torch to the main room before climbing into the bed and pulling the sheets up over his chest, resigned to the current situation.

In the back of his mind he knew he’d figure out a way to get home. It was just a matter of time. All he needed was time and, from the looks of it, he had all the time in the world.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Daniel?” Sam called, knocking at his office door while at the same time pushing it open. It was about 1100 hours and no one had seen Daniel yet this morning. Sam decided she had better start looking—just in case he had decided to wander off somewhere in the middle of the night.

As the light from the hallway pierced the darkness of the lab, it revealed the slumbering form of one Daniel Jackson.

Shaking her head in amusement, Sam stepped into the room and moved to click on Daniel’s desk lamp. It was a little less obtrusive than the overhead fluorescent lights. Looking down at the sleeping archeologist, Sam decided to start the coffee first before she woke him. From the looks of the office—the television and recorder within arm’s reach of the couch, his journal on the floor along with his glasses and a pencil, and Daniel in a very rumpled uniform—he had been up to something last night. Probably very late last night if she had to guess.

A few minutes later, the coffee was brewing and she turned her attention back to Daniel. She smiled sadly at him, her heart breaking a little at the sight. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, the lines deep around his mouth and eyes. He was frowning in his sleep, she realized. Never a good sign.

Glancing over at the gurgling appliance in the corner, she observed a good bit of steam was rising from the general vicinity and the smell of brewing coffee filled the air.

It was time.

Sam perched herself on the edge of the couch and leaned over, gently shaking Daniel’s arm, trying to wake him slowly—without frightening him to death. “Daniel. Hey, Daniel, it’s time to wake up. The coffee’s just about ready.”

Daniel twitched slightly, slowly opening one glazed eye to see who was bothering him. He closed it after a moment’s contemplation, sighing deeply. “What time is it?”

Always the morning person Daniel was, Sam thought with a smirk. She glanced at her watch before answering Daniel’s grumbled question. “A little after 1100. What time did you go to bed is the question I’d like answered.” She playfully teased Daniel’s hair, running her fingers through it. “Weren’t you supposed to go to sleep?”

“I did,” Daniel said indignantly, his tired blue eyes finally popping open in unison. “As you can see, I was sleeping.”

“I noticed. What time, Daniel?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I stopped looking some time after three.”

“And how much longer did you work after that?” Sam’s eyes were accusing, but her tone was light.

Daniel tried to shrug, but it was difficult in his reclining position. “I don’t know. I probably ended up calling it a night around 5 or 6.” Daniel paused for a moment, his gaze faraway. “I would have had enough sleep if it wasn’t for those damn nightmares,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What nightmares?” Sam said, touching his arm gently, trying to reassure him.

“I don’t really remember, Sam,” he admitted, looking her in the eye. “It’s just a jumble of images. It’s probably just the culmination of all the crap that we’ve been going through. Nothing to worry about.” He paused for a beat, before changing the subject. “So, where’s that coffee I smell?”

Sam looked Daniel over before rising to her feet to fetch the requested beverage from across the room. He wasn’t going to get away with the change of subject that easily. “You know, Daniel, there might be more to those dreams than you think.”

“What do you mean? A dream is a dream is a dream,” Daniel said, levering himself up on his elbows.

Sam watched as he squinted, trying to see her over the lab table in the middle of the room. Apparently, he finally realized he wasn’t getting anywhere and swung his feet to the floor. He picked up his glasses, and once they were settled on his nose, aimed his gaze back at Sam who was watching him and fixing herself a cup of coffee.

“Then why did you start getting them now?”

“Sam, I just saw someone get their throat slit open. Anyone could get nightmares from that,” Daniel said indignantly, his back stiffening a little. “You don’t have to treat me with kid gloves. I’ve seen that look before, Sam.”

“But Daniel—“

“Sam,” he said the tone of his voice warning.

“Fine, Daniel,” Sam said, handing him the warm mug of black coffee. “I’ll leave it alone.”

Daniel took a sip of the beverage, a contented smile creeping across his face. “This is good, Sam. Thanks. Do you think Janet got the results yet?”

“No,” Sam said, leaning back against the lab table. She knew he was hiding something, but for now, she’d humor him. “Some of us actually sleep at night instead of all day long.”

Daniel rolled his eyes at her teasing. “You know I’m not a morning person. It’s just better for me to sleep right through morning and get started first thing in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, stepping toward the door. “I’m going to go back to my lab. You going to be okay?”

“Yes, mom. I’ll be fine,” Daniel said, his grin wide.

She ignored his dig at her mothering. “Do you want to take a walk down to Janet’s lab later this afternoon to check on her progress? I was thinking about going down around 1400.”

“Sounds good, Sam,” Daniel said. “I’ll meet you in your lab then.”

“Great. I’ll see you later, Daniel,” Sam said, stepping into the hallway.

She was glad that she had found Daniel, but something was bothering her. There was something he wasn’t telling her. I guess I just have to wait him out, she thought. And I’m very good at waiting.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel sighed deeply once Sam stepped through the door, her final words echoing behind her, as the door slowly closed. “Great. I’ll see you later, Daniel.”

For a few minutes, Daniel had thought she was going to try and psychoanalyze him, digging into the hidden meanings of his dreams—well, nightmares in this case. He pushed himself up from the couch, padding across the room to pour himself another mug of coffee. He yawned widely. The caffeine hadn’t hit his system yet.

Scratching absently at his head, he kept running the images that he remembered through his head. There were just bits and pieces here and there, but they all blended together. Older memories mixed with newer ones. He was just glad that she had backed off when he’d asked. He didn’t need mothering. He got enough of it from Jack.

His eyed widened in surprise while his mug dropped from his hand in a magnificent crash, the ceramic breaking into several pieces, splashing hot liquid on his boots and all over the floor.

Where had that come from?

With trembling hands, he moved to his closet, pulling out a broom as he tried to clean up his mess. A knock at the door sounded a minute later, quickly followed by a timid voice.

“Doctor Jackson? Is everything okay in there?”

Of course, someone had to have been walking by when he dropped his mug. “Yes, everything’s fine. Just dropped something,” Daniel said raising his voice so he could be heard out in the hallway.

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Daniel said, as he resumed sweeping up the mess, his mind going over the words that had somehow popped into it. Somehow, he was starting to remember. Something was triggering his memories—which meant that they were all still there, just repressed somehow.

“I’m not going to say anything until I’m sure,” Daniel said out loud, trying to convince himself. “It could just be a fluke. Maybe it was nothing. But I won’t say anything until I know for sure.”

Daniel nodded to himself, sweeping the rest of his thoughts on the matter, and the remnants of the ceramic mug, into a dark corner. He’d deal with them later. Right now, he had some cataloging to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam looked up from her computer to see Daniel hovering on the threshold of her office looking a little peaked.

“Hey, Daniel. Come on in. I’m just about ready to go down and see Janet,” she said, saving a number of the documents on which she was currently working. She never had enough time to do everything she wanted. She just usually ended up juggling several things from mission reports to scientific research. Sometimes she still wished she had access to those armbands Anise had brought. At least she had had the ability to complete one of her long-standing projects, her book on wormhole physics.

Daniel sheepishly dragged himself into the room, leaning heavily on his elbow at the edge of Sam’s lab table. He looked a little worn around the edges, even worse than before. He was still in his rumpled uniform and stubble was appearing on his face.

“Daniel, are you okay?” She asked, her computer forgotten.

“I’m not sure, Sam,” Daniel admitted reluctantly, his forehead creasing, a frown finding a way to his mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Sam was worried, very worried. When Daniel started admitting he wasn’t feeling well, it usually meant that he was just about ready to drop dead.

“I...” Daniel said, pausing, seemingly at a loss for words. Sam waited him out and he continued a moment later, his words quiet. “I think I’m starting to remember.”

“What? Remember what?” Sam said, stepping close to him, her arms across her chest hugging herself in a familiar Daniel pose.

“I’ve been working, trying to catalog a number of artifacts I’ve accumulated over the past several months...and it’s almost like...I don’t know. Every time I start thinking about missions and stuff, I’m starting to get images, even hear voices and it’s starting to worry me.” Daniel raised his head up to meet Sam’s concerned gaze. His reddened eyes were wide, frantic even. “Could they have done something to us again?”

“Why would they have to? We gave them no reason to.” Sam looked Daniel over critically. He was wringing his hands, his eyes darting around, unable to hold her gaze for longer than a brief moment. “Could this be what’s causing your nightmares?”

“Maybe,” Daniel agreed after a few moments’ thought.

“Let’s go down and see what Janet has to say. She should have something for us by now. Besides, I want to have her check you over. You don’t look too good,” Sam said, moving to the door. When Daniel didn’t move, she stepped back to grab him by the arm. “Come on.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he said, allowing himself to be propelled forward by Sam’s momentum.

But just before they stepped out of her office, Sam’s phone gave its insistent tone. She ran back and caught the phone on its third ring.

“Carter.”

“Sam, it’s Janet.”

“Oh, hi Janet. We were just coming down to see you.” Sam noticed Daniel hovering at the door, openly listening to her conversation.

“Sam, I think you and Daniel need to come down here,” Janet said, her voice serious.

“Why? What did you find?” A pit formed in her stomach. Oh God, what could it be? She glanced back at Daniel. She realized she must have reacted at Janet’s comment since Daniel looked like he had dropped several more shades of color from his face. She didn’t think he could get much whiter than he already was.

“Just come down. I’ll tell you once you get here.”

“Okay. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Sam hung up the phone, her eyes wide.

“What?” Daniel asked, his eyes a mirror image of Sam’s.

“Janet found something. She wants us down there,” Sam reported, stepping close to Daniel.

“I guess we should go. We can’t keep the good doctor waiting,” Daniel said, trying for levity, meeting Sam’s expectant gaze.

“Let’s go.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

When they reached the infirmary, they were directed by one of the nurses to Janet’s personal laboratory. Daniel and Sam exchanged an uneasy look before walking to the back of infirmary in silence, winding their way past several labs and offices.

Sam tapped lightly on the doorframe once they reached the lab. Janet was inside, bending over one of the microscopes obviously deep in concentration. “Janet?” Sam called quietly.

Janet glanced up quickly, a smile crossing her features as she waved them in. “Sam, Daniel, come in. Take a seat.” Janet’s eyes were wide, her face a mix of emotions from amazement to confusion.

“Janet, what did you find?” Sam asked, settling on one of the tall stools, as Daniel dragged another chair closer.

“This stuff, whatever you call it, is amazing,” Janet said simply, turning to Daniel. “Where did you say you got it?”

“I found it in my bag,” Daniel said, shifting in his chair. He never liked it when she pierced him with her unwavering gaze. It usually meant he was in store for one lecture or another—none of which was a good thing. “I think Egan put it there when we were saying our final farewells to Lord Kentigern. Why?”

Janet absently ran her fingers through her hair before answering. “Somehow, this chemical has the ability to attach itself to the neurotransmitters in the brain. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Daniel hadn’t seen Janet at a loss for words often, so this was surprising.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, her eyebrows drawing together as she moved to look at the sample under the microscope.

“Since you mentioned that it might have something to do with your memory loss, I had a small sample analyzed and looked at its genetic structure. It’s a perfect match for some of the chemicals in our brains, effectively bonding with them. But, from what I can hypothesize, the chemical eventually disintegrates, dissipating into the bloodstream and vanishing from the body,” Janet’s hands moved throughout her explanation, as if the movement helped propel her train of thought.

“Janet, this is amazing,” Sam said, awe evident in her voice. She was still bending over the microscope, staring intently through the lenses.

“I know,” Janet said, turning to Sam. “If someone could somehow directly affect what that chemical does once it’s bonded, there’s no saying what they could do.”

Sam glanced up quickly, her eyes wide. “Janet, are you saying that this is what we were given?”

Janet nodded her head, her face grim. “Yes, I am.”

“But, if it dissipates and essentially disappears from our bodies, why does it continue to affect us?”

“I’m not sure, exactly. It might have something to do with how it was used, the concentration of the chemical itself, or something else entirely.”

Daniel was listening intently to their conversation, his chin resting in his hand, his elbows on the table before him. There was something else, something more than just a chemical.

“Janet,” Daniel said, his voice quiet, but demanding. Janet and Sam stopped talking quickly, turning their attention to him.

“What is it, Daniel?” Janet asked.

“What if they could somehow affect our minds directly though telepathy or something like that?”

“Well, hypothetically, I guess that could happen, but I’ve yet to see someone able to do that.” Janet wasn’t convinced, although from the expression on Sam’s face, she was at least considering it. At least she didn’t think he was crazy, Daniel thought.

“Janet, “Daniel said, turning to face her, passion entering his voice. He knew he was right. He just had to put all the pieces together. “What if they had the same ability as Nem? He altered SG1’s memories, giving Sam, Jack, and Teal’c false memories about my death. What if this chemical just enhances their natural ability?”

Janet’s jaw had dropped open in the middle of Daniel’s tirade, while Sam looked on, an expression of wonder on her face. “Daniel, what did you just say?” Janet’s eyes were wide, her face almost matching the white of her coat.

“What do you mean?” He was confused. Didn’t she remember the mission to P3X-866? How could she have forgotten? Daniel knew it had happened several years ago, but it was something he was sure he’d never forget. He’d never looked at sushi the same way since.

Janet looked at Sam, apparently looking for some assistance. Sam shrugged and offered a weak smile. “Ah...Janet...it seems like Daniel has been getting some flashes of memories.”

“Since when?”

“Daniel?” Sam asked, her blue eyes focused on his face. He found he couldn’t meet either of their eyes, instead choosing to stare at the floor, his eyes tracing the edge of the lab table, noting the specs of dirt the mop has failed to get.

“Since yesterday sometime. Maybe even a little before,” he mumbled.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Janet was flabbergasted and a little upset. He couldn’t really blame her.

Daniel looked up, finally meeting her eyes. “Because I didn’t want to say anything until I was positive that I was actually remembering something.”

“What have you remembered?” Janet’s voice was calmer, her professional Doctor tone settling in.

Daniel shrugged. “Not much. It’s bits and pieces. Sometimes it’s a voice, a phrase, or a feeling. It’s never the same and it’s quick. Like now, it just came out. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, just about the mission.”

“Janet, do you think that hypnosis might help bring out some of the memories? Maybe if we can remember more of what happened while we were in the village, it will help us to figure out what might have happened to all of us,” Sam suggested, perching herself on the edge of the stool, her arms crossed.

“We could try,” Janet said, her eyes getting a faraway look as she thought about Sam’s suggestion. “I don’t think it would hurt any. Daniel, would you be up for it?”

Daniel glanced nervously between Sam and Janet, but nodded slowly. “Sure. Anything’s better than getting these fragmented feelings and memories.”

Janet moved to the phone in the corner of the room, lifting the handset, and pressing one of the speed dial numbers. “Mary? Is Dr. MacKenzie around?”

“Janet, do we have to call him?” Sam asked, her tone sharp, but Janet waved her hand, indicating for Sam to be quiet.

Daniel was sure his face had become pale and waxen. He’d rather not have to deal with Dr. MacKenzie. They hadn’t gotten along well after that whole incident with Ma’chello’s Goa'uld killing machines and Daniel’s visit to the padded room.

“How about Dr. LaMesa? Good. Can you ask her to meet us in my office as soon as she can? Great. Thanks.” Janet turned back to them, a smile on her face. “Dr. LaMesa is here today so she should be able to help us out.” She looked quizzically at Daniel who flashed her a wan smile. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel kept shifting on the couch in Janet’s office. He couldn’t seem to sit still.

Sam had turned one of the guest chairs around to face the couch so she could watch as Dr. Theresa LaMesa started the whole process of hypnotizing Daniel. Sam was thankful that Dr. MacKenzie was on a different rotation this week. The last thing Daniel needed was a visit from him. When Janet had mentioned his name back in the lab an hour ago, Sam could have sworn she had watched the blood drain from Daniel’s face.

It hadn’t been a pretty sight.

Over the next hour, while they waited for Dr. LaMesa to finish her rounds of patients, Daniel had tried forcing the memories, but it looked as if that only gave him a headache.

Now, he was sitting on the couch, his knees bouncing nervously as he tapped his feet. Dr. LaMesa was walking around the room adjusting the lighting and closing the doors. She wanted a quiet and dark atmosphere. She claimed it helped the patient to concentrate better.

“Dr. Jackson, I need you to relax. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you,” LaMesa said in her musical Spanish accent. Her thick black hair was tied back tightly in a bun, making her features appear more severe than they should.

“I know,” Daniel said quietly, drawing Sam’s attention back to his anxious face. “It’s just...I’m just worried about what might be hidden there, just beneath the surface.”

LaMesa settled into the armchair directly across from Daniel, a light smile crossing her face. “Well, if that’s all you’re worried about, then you have nothing to fear. If you want, I can ask Dr. Fraiser and Major Carter to leave. It can just be you and me.”

“No, no. I want them here,” Daniel said, his eyes growing wider at LaMesa’s suggestion. Apparently, leaving him alone with her was more frightening to Daniel. That surprised Sam.

“Okay then, I need you to concentrate on this watch,” LaMesa said, beginning to swing a gold pocket watch before Daniel’s eyes, her voice walking him through every step of the way. Sam watched as Daniel slowly relaxed, his eyes growing heavy and eventually closing.

“Dr. Jackson, we’re going to go back in time. I want you to go back to just before you left for the original mission to P5X-171. Where are you?”

“In my office,” Daniel’s sleepy reply came.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a book. We’re getting ready to ship out but I need one of my Celtic books. I know it’s here somewhere.” Daniel’s voice drops, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

“What happens when you look for the book? Do you find it?”

“No. Couldn’t find the book. Sam should have helped me look, she would have found it.”

Janet leaned over to LaMesa, whispering something in her ear.

“Dr. Jackson,” LaMesa said a few beats later. “Did someone come to meet you in your office?”

“No. Was late for the departure. I ran all the way. General Hammond wasn’t happy.”

From Sam’s perspective, it looked like Daniel was tensing up. He was restless, his feet moving steadily with a tapping motion. Sam managed to catch LaMesa’s eye and mouthed for her to move on.

They kept this up for nearly two hours, leaving everyone mentally exhausted.

It seemed as if Daniel’s memories of Colonel O’Neill were still elusive, dodging all of LaMesa’s attempts to retrieve them. They left Daniel curled up on the couch asleep after that taxing session, when they walked into the hallway to talk.

“I can’t do anything more,” LaMesa said, rubbing her temples. “There’s something there, he kept going around things, avoiding certain time periods, but for some reason I can’t seem to be able to break through. I don’t know what else I can do.” LaMesa’s expression was one of defeat.

“Janet, do you think my dad could help?” Sam asked, a thought flashing through her mind.

“I don’t know, Sam. How?”

“I’m sure they have some of their memory devices. What if one of those could break through?”

Janet started nodding. “You know, that might be a good idea. Do you think General Hammond would approve?”

“I’ll go ask him now,” Sam said, pacing a few steps down the hallway, her mind a thousand miles away. She turned abruptly back to the two doctors. “Janet, will Daniel be okay?”

“He’ll be fine, Sam,” Janet said smiling. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Okay.” Sam paused, thinking carefully before she spoke again. She didn’t think Daniel would mind if she told Janet about his disturbed sleep. “Janet, Daniel complained of nightmares last night. He might have some more tonight, especially now that we were trying to pull some of those memories to the surface.”

Janet smiled, waves of comfort radiating off of her. “Don’t worry, Sam. Go get your dad. Daniel will be just fine. Trust me.”

Janet’s smile followed her all the way down to level 28 and General Hammond’s office.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It took three days before Jacob Carter finally made his appearance in the gateroom of the SGC.

General Hammond had agreed immediately with Sam’s suggestion to contact the Tok’ra, but it proved to be a little more difficult for Sam to get in touch with her father than she had originally anticipated. According to the Supreme High Councilor Per’sus, Jacob/Selmac was unavailable and currently on a mission. Per’sus would attempt to pass along the message, but he couldn’t guarantee when Jacob would receive it.

It seemed that cooperation with the Tok’ra was going swimmingly—just as it always did. Even though Sam could understand the Tok’ra reluctance to confide information, it didn’t make matters any easier. Relations between the two groups were quickly dropping to an all time low. She was sure that it was only a matter of time before something happened to upset their tenacious balance.

Sam decided to use the time as best she could and ended up prowling the halls restlessly when she could no longer concentrate on her scientific experiments. Daniel had buried himself in his translations and his cataloging. She had never seen him working so hard, so diligently. His focus was a little disturbing.

She was checking on him regularly, as were Janet and Teal’c and his flashes of memories continued to occur, shocking himself and everyone around him.

He was continuing to remember bits and pieces and he was recalling the strangest of things, mainly arguments between Colonel O’Neill and him—apparently, more than a few.

To Sam, it was a little unnerving to finally have proof that their minds had been tampered with. Also, it disturbed her on a more personal level. Of all the people involved—Daniel, Teal’c, and her—she had always considered herself to be strong, self-sufficient. She could handle anything. She’d been trained for some of this and she never thought that her mind was that weak, that fragile.

That was what worried her more than anything. If it could be done to her once, what said that it couldn’t happen again?

Sam had finally gotten the courage to look up the Colonel’s file—finding huge holes in most of his service record—but there, in black and white print was another confirmation. Mission reports, alongside photographs of the team—all four members of SG1. Some of the same pictures Janet had showed her weeks ago.

Even staring at the picture for hours on end hadn’t jogged her memories one iota.

Now one question remained: how long would it take for her to regain those lost memories? What if she never did?

The klaxons shrieking their alarm jolted her out of her self-imposed reflection and she soon found her feet heading for the control room. There was an incoming traveler and no team was due back.

By the time she reached the gateroom, her father was halfway down the metal ramp, his Tok’ra garb still looking out of place. He wore it well, but for some reason it never fit him perfectly.

Selmac, though, had been the perfect companion, blending with him as if they were two sides of a coin. Sam even enjoyed Selmac’s sense of humor, much to her father’s dismay.

Sam ran the last few steps to meet her father at the base of the ramp, exchanging a warm embrace with him.

“Sammy,” Jacob said, hugging his daughter tightly. He pulled back, his hands on either of Sam’s shoulders, and his kind eyes alight with concern. “Now, what was the emergency that you had to pull me from a mission? Per’sus was not very forthcoming with information, but he expressed that there was some kind of urgency.”

Sam sighed, feeling herself relax for the first time in weeks under his strong hands. “We seem to have a little problem and we were hoping that you might be able to help us. Did you bring the memory devices we asked for?”

“Yes, I brought them,” he answered, his forehead creasing. “I don’t understand why you need them, but I brought two with me.” Jacob glanced quickly around the gateroom, noting his friend, General Hammond, observing from the control room alone. “Sam, what’s going on? Where’s the rest of SG1? Did Jack get himself into trouble again, or is it Daniel this time?”

“Dad, why don’t you come with me. It might be easier for Janet to explain to you what we want to do,” Sam said, leading her father toward the main bank of elevators.

“Janet? What does she have to do with this? What happened?” Jacob’s voice was rising, his frustration plainly evident. A few turned heads caused Sam to pull her father into the elevator. She punched the level for the infirmary before she began speaking.

“Dad, it seems that SG1 has been having some memory problems over the past few weeks. We need you to help us remember what happened.”

“Okay. So why all the cloak and dagger stuff? Why all the secrecy?” Jacob followed Sam out of the elevator onto level 21.

“Well, this has only affected Daniel, Teal’c, and myself,” Sam said simply, keeping her head down.

“Wow. For something to affect a Jaffa it must be pretty potent.” Jacob paused, realizing his daughter omission. “So, Jack’s fine?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that...” Sam trailed off, refusing to meet her father’s eyes.

Jacob stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway, pulling Sam to a stop beside him. His tone was firm and determined—the tone of a pissed off Air Force General. “Sam, what happened?”

She sighed, offering her father a shy half-smile. “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain, which is why I wanted Janet to give you all the details—“

Jacob had had enough. “Major Carter, what’s going on?” He bellowed as Sam’s back went ramrod straight, her military training kicking in.

“Sir...Dad, it would be better if you just stepped into the infirmary...”

“I said now, young lady.” Jacob wasn’t backing down and her procrastination was only making more of a scene. As it was, several people had already stopped to watch their little chat.

“We left him behind,” Sam mumbled.

“You what?”

Sam was convinced that the guard on level one had heard her father’s roar. She closed her eyes in an effort to pull her thoughts together. “Dad, SG1 has been affected by some type of drug and our memories have been altered, but Daniel’s starting to remember. We need your help to figure out what happened.”

Jacob visibly calmed down, his breath evening out. The next time he spoke, he finally brought his voice down to a more normal level. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“We’re trying to keep it quiet, or at least as quiet as we can,” Sam admitted.

“Well, then, what are you waiting for, let’s find Doctor Fraiser,” Jacob said, striding for the door of the infirmary.

Sam watched her father walk away from her in amazement. Throwing her hands up in the air, she rushed tocatch up with him. Some things never changed. Her father was one of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel glanced up from his journal immediately when Jacob Carter strode into the room, followed closely by Sam. Daniel smiled and got to his feet, grasping Jacob’s hand warmly.

“Jacob, it’s good to see you. I’m glad Sam was able to get hold of you,” Daniel said.

“Welcome, Jacob Carter and Selmac,” Teal’c said, inclining his head in respect to the older Tok’ra. Teal’c had been standing guard over Daniel while they waited. Today, Daniel had had several flashback incidents and Janet had thought it best to keep him under observation. Teal’c had volunteered to watch Daniel, making sure he ate and slept when needed.

“It’s good to see you too, Daniel, Teal’c. Sam explained that you all got yourselves into a little trouble,” Jacob said, eyeing each member of SG1.

“Indeed,” was the only audible reply Jacob received.

“So, Daniel,” Jacob said after a few moments of silence, turning his attention to the archeologist. “How is it that you seem to be the only one remembering stuff?”

“I don’t know, Jacob,” Daniel answered, uncomfortable with the Tok’ra’s scrutiny. He offered a small shrug. “I’m lucky, I guess.”

“I’d say,” Janet said from across the room, her heels clicking on the floor.

“What?” Sam said, speaking before Daniel could form the words.

“He’s lucky that he started remembering. Until you brought back that herbal sample and he started having these flashbacks, we weren’t sure how to proceed. How do you treat something that you can’t figure out?” Janet said, reaching Daniel’s side. She looked at him critically. Daniel tried not to cringe. She was probably measuring how deep his circles had gotten over the past few days. He was even afraid to look. “How are youdoing?”

“Fine,” Daniel answered simply. “Nothing new.”

Jacob was looking quizzically at Janet, his eyes intense, but it was Selmac who spoke. “Doctor Fraiser, what herbs did Daniel bring back?”

“They’re a kind of hypnotic drug. Used alone, they leave the mind open to suggestion. We believe these herbs were used in conjunction with some type of precise mind control—a mind probe even. It effectively erased Colonel O’Neill from all of their memories.” Janet paused, looking from face to face. “Why Daniel is starting to remember and no one else, I can’t explain. I’m just grateful that we’re getting some kind of break.”

“I agree,” Selmac said, his voice thoughtful. “Doctor Fraiser, would it be possible to see this herb before I apply the memory device to Daniel Jackson? I’m curious to see what it is.”

Janet nodded in agreement. “Sure. Sam, why don’t you get Daniel set up in one of the private rooms. I don’t think he’ll want an audience for this.”

Daniel looked back and forth between the two, annoyance plainly evident on his face. “It’s not like I’m here or anything,” he commented sarcastically. “I can get myself settled in the private room, thank you very much.”

“Daniel, I know you can, but I’d rather make sure you got there instead of wandering back to your office,” Janet said, teasing slightly.

Daniel’s face twisted in annoyance. “I wasn’t going to go there,” he said indignantly. He was more annoyed by the fact that she had read him like a book. He needed to grab one or two artifacts from his office to complete the section of his report he was working on. He had just been waiting for a break to run the few levels up to his lab.

“Sure you weren’t,” Janet said, smiling kindly. She turned her attention back to Sam. “Jacob and I will join you in a few minutes.”

“Sure, Janet,” Sam said, taking Daniel’s arm in her hand and leading him toward one of the infirmary doors.

“Hey,” Daniel protested, trying to pull his arm away from Sam.

“Come on, Daniel. No side trips right now,” Sam said, her tone firm. “Let’s get one thing done at a time.”

Daniel sighed, giving in. “Fine, Sam. Lead the way.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jacob and Janet met up with them twenty minutes later, entering the small room obviously in the middle of a lengthy conversation. Jacob’s face was filled with concern and curiosity while Janet continued to explain some of her research.

“Hi, guys,” Daniel said, breaking into their conversation.

Jacob and Janet stopped dead in their tracks, their conversation ceasing immediately as they looked at Daniel as if he had three heads and seventeen arms.

Daniel ignored the look, and continued speaking, “Are we ready to get started? I’m awfully tired of just getting pieces of things here and there. I feel like someone’s channel surfing in here,” he grumbled, pointing to his head.

Sam tried to bite back a smile as she watched her father and Janet exchange a look. Daniel was obviously very nervous and not looking forward to another round with the memory devices. From their two run-ins with the devices—first with Hathor and the second with Apophis—Sam was sure that he didn’t want a repeat performance. Although she was sure that Daniel trusted her father, the uncertainty of what they might find worried Daniel. It worried her, too, but she didn’t want to admit it. If they couldn’t fix that had happened, how would the military treat them? Would SG1 be allowed to continue as they were? She doubted it.

“Okay, Daniel,” her father was saying as Sam dragged her attention back to the present conversation. Her father had stepped into the room and had settled Daniel on one of the beds, his feet stretched out in front of him. “This will hurt a little when I put it in.”

“I know,” Daniel said, his reply curt and quiet.

Much to Sam’s amazement, Daniel didn’t even flinch when the memory device was inserted. Daniel even remained silent while her father adjusted the device with the handheld controller.

“It’s in, Daniel,” Jacob said. “Now all you have to do is relax.”

“Yeah. That’s easier said than done,” Daniel grumbled, closing his eyes.

“Daniel, do you want us to leave?” Sam asked. If Daniel wanted privacy, she’d clear the level if it were necessary.

Daniel’s eyes flew open, meeting her eyes across the room. “No. Please stay.”

“Just say the word, Daniel, and we’ll leave if you want us to,” Sam said, sitting down in one of the hard-backed plastic chairs as Janet lowered the light in the room. Teal’c stood silently beside the closed door at parade rest, his hands clasped together behind him.

“I know, Sam,” Daniel said, his eyes flashing his gratitude for her support.

“Daniel Jackson,” Selmac said, cutting into their silent communication. Apparently, her father had stepped aside, allowing Selmac control. “I am not going to hook this up to a viewscreen, so you will have to verbally walk us through your memories. Will that be agreeable with you?”

Daniel nodded his head, his eyes wide and his hands clenched together so tightly the knuckles were white.

“Daniel Jackson, let’s go back a few weeks to the day you were scheduled to go to the planet for the first time. Do you remember what happened that morning?” Selmac asked, his tone calm and even. “Just say the first thing that comes to mind. The memory device should help you to access the memories that have been out of reach.”

“Yes, I remember that day,” Daniel answered quickly, his eyes gaining a faraway look as he delved into his memories. Sam remembered when Martouf had used the device on her to gain the memories of Jolinar. It was amazing how real those memories could become.

“What do you remember?”

“I remember racing to the mountain. I had to find a book before we left,” Daniel said slowly, his eyes sliding halfway shut, reliving the moments again. Selmac gently prodded Daniel forward, step by step.

“What were you feeling once you reached your office?”

“I was tired. Hadn’t gotten enough sleep the night before. I was trying to hurry. Jack hadn’t been in a good mood for the past week or so and, for some reason, he was taking it out on me,” Daniel said.

“What do you mean?”

“Jack was on the edge. It was almost the same as when we first met for the Abydos mission, but it was different. I’d tried to talk to him a couple of times, but he just brushed me aside. There was something wrong. Something was eating at him from the inside.”

Sam sat silently still, listening to the words pouring from Daniel’s mouth. The memories were there, within each of them, just hidden away, pushed to the side. Somehow Daniel had been able to punch holes in the veil within his mind, letting him see bits and pieces. Finally, with the help of the Tok’ra, he was—they all were—seeing the big picture.

Words continued to tumble from Daniel’s mouth, with the gentle leading of Selmac, they pushed forward, traveling back to the planet in Daniel’s memory. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes to hours.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes when Jack took Lady Morgana’s hand and bowed regally over it as if he’d been doing it all his life. He loves to keep those little tricks up his sleeves and pull them out when we least suspect,” Daniel was saying. “Once we put our eyes back in our heads we settled down for a very pleasant dinner. Lord Kentigern was most hospitable.”

“What happened after dinner, once you got back to you rooms?” Selmac asked calmly, quietly.

“Kelan walked us back to the rooms and we all called it a night—even though it was very early morning,” Daniel said, but his forehead creased, his expression changing to confusion.

“What do you see, Daniel?” Selmac asked, sitting up straighter on the stool beside the bed.

“I remember hearing something,” Daniel said, concentrating hard, focusing on the memory.

“Don’t force it. Let it come naturally,” Selmac advised. “Did you hear something?”

“Yes. I was asleep, but something woke me. It sounded like the swinging of a door or something,” Daniel said, pausing for a minute. Shock and astonishment quickly flashed across his face and he screamed. “Oh God! Jack!” Daniel lurched forward, his eyes opening wide. “Oh God, Sam. We left him there,” he sobbed. “We left him there and he asked for my help.”

As soon as Daniel had started yelling, Sam immediately raced to his side, holding his hand tightly, trying to help ground him in the here and now. “Daniel, you have to calm down. What are you talking about?“

Daniel’s frantic eyes finally found purchase on her face. “Sam, I can remember everything. We left Jack there. I remember seeing Lady Morgana in the room that night, hovering over me and that’s when everything changed.” Daniel’s eyes hardened, focusing desperately on Sam’s. “Do you remember the man they were searching for?”

Sam nodded her head warily, the pit in her stomach swelling. She knew where this was going.

“It was Jack, Sam. They were searching for Jack, not the representative from the other village. When I got up to go to the bathroom during the negotiations, he pulled me into one of the empty rooms and he asked for my help. He tried to reach out to me, but I couldn’t remember him. I turned my back and then he was gone.” Daniel’s tear-filled eyes clutched at Sam’s heart. “He depended on us and we left him behind. We didn’t even lift a hand to help him. He was probably waiting for us to come back for him, but we just left him there. We left him there with Lady Morgana. Oh God, Sam, what have we done?”

 


	8. Chapter Eight

The sunlight glistened brightly off the water, a molten river of silvers and blues, catching and reflecting the sun’s strong rays. Jack O’Neill shaded his eyes with his hand as he gazed out across the river toward the forested valley beyond.

He’d developed a routine of sorts over the past several days. After eating what passed as breakfast in his quarters, he would amble through the streets and alleys of Meath, exploring every nook and cranny until the sun finally set, causing him to retreat back indoors, back to the suite of rooms that had become his prison. They were a great deal nicer than the dungeons he had occupied earlier, but a cage was still a cage—no matter how well appointed.

It was nearly time for him to go back to the castle for the night. The sun was setting over the land—its last dying rays reflecting off the water’s surface providing a beautiful panorama. The river cascaded gently down the side of the mountain, pooling in a large lake in the valley several miles away. Each night, he had found his way to this very spot, watching as the light slowly faded and the land was plunged into the darkness of the night.

The darkness progressed slowly, first overtaking the village and then spreading out to engulf the river and the forest beyond.

The land was beautiful, untouched, and peaceful, but yet, even as he gazed out across the resplendent land, inside he was dying, each day another piece of him surrendering to the darkness that lay within just as the light from the sun died each night.

Soon, there would be nothing left of the man who had been known as Jack O’Neill. The device he wore made sure of that. He wasn’t even permitted the companionship of his memories. Hope had long since vanished, crushed to nothingness along with the snap-hiss of the closing wormhole five days before. How much longer he could go on like this, he did not know.

He was empty inside.

Sitting on the back edge of a large wooden wagon, Jack was about as far from the castle as he could go. At this distance, approximately ten feet from the village wall, he could stand the pain buzzing just beneath the surface of his mind—just for the few minutes of pleasure he found from gazing out on the foliage below.

He’d discovered his limits in the first few hours. He had tested the waters as it were—walking brazenly to the village walls, only to find the pain growing inside until he could no longer stand it, forcing him to retreat back into the village, closer to the castle at its center.

The villagers were tolerant of him—restrained, but no longer overtly threatening. They still looked on him with disgust in their eyes, however. Jack tried to shy away from close contact with anyone, deciding to become a loner as much as possible. It was easier that way. If he didn’t see family and friends gathering together, laughing over their meals, it was easier for him to stop remembering—to stop remembering the good times he had had with his team and his family. If he didn’t see their happiness and contentment, he could distance himself from the life he was forced to live.

Every time Jack saw a child, however, he was reminded of his son. Jack was reminded of the promise that he had made while holding the body of his dying child in his arms. And still now, every time he saw a child, Jack apologized in his heart and mind, asking forgiveness from his son for his failures in life and for his ultimate sin—failing his son when he needed a father. Ever since then, Jack had promised Charlie that he would do the right thing, but never had those words—that promise—been fulfilled. Instead, Jack brought death and destruction with him. It followed him from planet to planet, cursing everything he touched until finally, now, it rested fully on him.

He wasn’t going home.

Home wasn’t even a consideration. He would never again set foot on the planet of his birth. He would die here, light-years from home, unable to visit his son one last time. Unable to apologize in person for the horrible deeds he had done and the pain that he had caused to so many people.

At least his team was safe. Safe from the plague that was embodied in him. They would finally gain a measure of peace—even if he could not.

If only he could gain his son’s forgiveness, maybe he’d be able to die in peace. But, he knew that that was not possible.

He was alone.

Jack O’Neill had died six days ago.

Only of the shell of the man remained.

Jack closed his eyes as the darkness finally enveloped the land. One single tear left a wet trail down his face, dripping to the ground below to be soaked up by the dust, vanishing in the twinkling of an eye.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Egan stood at the upper window of the castle, gazing down at the bustling square below. The sun had just set and Jack O’Neill would be entering the castle soon. Egan had watched the man over the past several days. He had even attempted to speak with him on more than one occasion, but his efforts had been fruitless. O’Neill had brushed aside all of Egan’s attempts at communication.

Jack O’Neill had given up hope.

Egan didn’t really blame him. O’Neill’s freedom had been a few steps away, only to have it torn away from him and replaced by this hellish existence. Egan closed his eyes, breathing deeply. His hands were tied. He had offered all the assistance he could and it hadn’t been enough.

Opening his eyes to gaze out once again into the deepening darkness, Egan spotted the lone figure for which he had been searching. O’Neill stumbled slightly on the uneven ground barely letting his unsure footing upset his stride. His head was downcast, his eyes refusing to meet those around him. The cloak he wore swirled around his legs in the brisk wind and if O’Neill felt the chill, he didn’t let on, leaving the material flying loose.

O’Neill was even thinner than he had been in the dungeons before, Egan noted critically, watching as O’Neill stumbled once again. The house servants had mentioned that O’Neill had not been eating well, merely picking at the food offered him. According to the same reports, insomnia had also set in for the warrior. Many nights, O’Neill could be found staring out the windows or aimlessly pacing the floor, walking with nowhere to go.

What could he do? Egan pondered the question thoughtfully, meaningfully. If he tried to offer help now, everyone would know, everyone would realize what his true feelings were. It was not yet time for such drastic action.

But, would O’Neill last long enough?

Only time would tell.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning in Meath came quickly.

O’Neill blinked weakly at the morning sun’s rays as they swept through the village, lighting everything in its path. He had been up for some time already, watching for the first glimpse of sunrise—the red and orange rays of light of the morning sun as they touched the treetops, sparkling like jewels.

Here time had no meaning. Each day merged into the next, with only the advancing of the sun to mark its passage. The farmers continued to farm, the soldiers to train, and the children to play.

A knock sounded quietly at the door and O’Neill turned his head, offering a brief call to allow entrance to the house servant. Jack hadn’t bothered asking the servant’s name. He had no use for it. He had no desire to speak to him or anyone else.

“My lord,” the servant said, bowing as he entered with the morning breakfast tray.

O’Neill turned back to the window and the scenery below, ignoring the young man. He would be gone soon enough.

A few moments later, the door quietly closed once again, leaving O’Neill in solitude.

“You could be more thankful,” a voice said, harsh and shrill, loud in the silence that had settled in the room.

“You could have announced your presence,” O’Neill said simply, refusing to turn. His voice was quiet and uneven, unused as it had been these last few days.

“I did not think you would have welcomed me, my love,” Lady Morgana said, stepping closer to O’Neill, her smell swirling around him, enveloping his senses.

“You were right.”

“Why must you be so melancholy, my love?” Morgana asked, her voice even closer now, whispering in his ear, her hands lightly caressing his shoulders and arms. The hairs on his arms reacted immediately to her touch, standing up straight as a shiver rolled through his body.

Jack’s response was bitter. “What reason do I have to be joyful? You’ve taken me away from my friends and my home.”

“Oh, I’ve taken far more than just your friends and your home,” Morgana taunted. When he refused to be baited by her comment, she continued. “Today, we have scheduled a special ceremony. The Gods are unhappy with your refusal to cooperate.”

He finally turned to her, meeting her green eyes, his mouth inches from hers. His warm breath touched herface gently, their positions intimate. “Don’t you mean that you are unhappy that I won’t cooperate?”

Morgana smiled innocently, her green eyes dancing in amusement. “These things are but one and the same. We are going to offer up a sacrifice to appease the Gods, to ask for their mercy on our village.”

“Have fun at the bonfire. I’m really not in the mood for a party,” O’Neill said, turning back to the window. Life was starting in the square below as farmers and others began their chores for the day. Soon the village would be filled with activity, everyone having a share, everyone with a purpose, a use—except for him.

Morgana’s firm voice broke into his thoughts, dragging him reluctantly back to the present. “Hywel will escort you to the ceremony later today. I expect you to cooperate with him.” Her tone allowed no room for arguments.

O’Neill rolled his eyes heavenward and shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “Fine.”

“Eat up, then. You have a big day ahead of you,” Morgana said, her voice flowing behind her as she glided to the door.

Once he was sure she was gone, O’Neill released the breath he had been holding. When she was around, he had to keep his emotions in the strictest of checks—trying to keep his mind focused on something else, lest he accidentally try to throttle her to death—although, with that device in his head, that was not exactly a possibility.

The pain, though, he could really live without. Even when he was “behaving,” O’Neill was convinced that the device still hummed and it was grating on his nerves.

Jack was unsure how long he stood there gazing out across the expanse before him, when a knock sounded once again at the door. Offering a brief, “Come,” he turned to see Hywel enter the room and bow slightly, the epitome of propriety. That was one thing he couldn’t fault them for, Jack had to admit. The house servants were polite and always kind to him, much to his surprise.

“My Lord,” Hywel said, his deep voice carrying across the room. “Lady Morgana requests your presence at the ceremony this morning. Would you please accompany me?” Although the words were phrased as a question, Jack knew he had no choice in the matter. What Morgana wanted, she got. If she wanted him at this ceremony of hers, he would have to attend—even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Sure, Hywel,” O’Neill said quietly, stepping away from the window and the view. Hywel stopped Jack with a light touch on his arm, carefully settling a hunter green cloak across his shoulders and fastening it at his neck with one of the most intricately designed metal broaches Jack had ever seen.

The broach reminded him of Daniel, but Jack had finally managed to stop thinking about his former teammate every time he cast his eyes upon it. It was the little things that continued to plague him, to remind him of just how much he had lost.

“Thank you, Hywel,” Jack said, waiting patiently for Hywel to lead him down the stairs to where Morgana waited.

Before they reached the stairs, however, Hywel stopped suddenly. “My Lord, may I speak with you?” Hywel’s eyes were intense, the first time Jack had seen anything besides subservience in them. It piqued his curiosity and stirred something inside him—hope. He roughly shoved that emotion down, back into the depths, down into the back reaches of his mind. Hope was something that no longer had a place in his life.

“What is it?” Jack asked, his tone sharp, sharper than he originally intended, his back straightening with anger.

“I have been asked to relay a message to you from Lord Egan. He wishes to speak with you before the ceremony is to begin. If you agree, we must hurry for we do not have much time. Lady Morgana expects us to arrive forthwith.”

“Hywel, I have no intention on speaking with anyone if I don’t have to,” Jack said, a measure of fire finding its way into his tone. He turned his back on Hywel, striding toward the stairs. “Let’s get this over with. Just bring me to Lady Morgana.

Jack could hear the disappointment in Hywel’s voice when he finally answered. “Yes, my Lord.” Hywel quickly stepped up alongside him, accompanying him to the main floor and out of the castle door, steadily moving into the castle gardens to the west.

As they approached, Jack could hear the rumblings of a great crowd of people and moments later, they turned a corner and the crowd was spread out before him. Lady Morgana stood regally on a raised dais in the middle of the garden with a small child—a young boy no older than four or five—at her side. A dark stone altar lay behind her and, as they got closer, Jack could see its deep coloring was not part of the stone—it was bloodstained.

A pit of unease swirled in Jack’s stomach, threatening to rid itself of the acid burrowing a hole into its lining. The atmosphere of the crowd was charged. They knew something was going to happen and Jack immediately knew that it involved that little boy.

And if it involved Morgana, it couldn’t be good.

Hywel slowly walked them up toward the front of the ground; the crowd parting to allow them passage. Eventually, they reached the front and Jack found himself standing on the ground just before Morgana, a pleased smile radiating from her face, bathing the crowd in her aura of peace and authority.

To these people, she was the high priestess, the spokesperson for their God. Whatever she said, these people would do without question. He’d seen it before—on Earth and on many other planets. As much as he hated clichés, this one fit the bill: Absolute power corrupts absolutely. This was—she was—a prime example.

Apparently, Morgana had been waiting for them because as soon as they settled into the front row, she began speaking and chanting. The child beside her was looking on, a terrified expression on his face, too scared to move a muscle. Jack watched the young boy’s blue eyes search the crowd. He was probably looking for his parents, Jack surmised, or at least a friendly face.

There were none to be found.

“My children, your God Lugh is not pleased and he has withdrawn his blessings from this village. The only way we can appease him is through a sacrifice and we have one to present to him.” Morgana’s voice carried through the garden, weaving its way through the foliage, caressing the senses of those present. Her voice was intoxicating. It was so thick you could drink it in, delighting in its luxuriant tones.

Jack shook his head, trying to clear it, finally putting all the pieces together. Morgana was going to sacrifice the child to her false god. She was going to kill that little boy before he even had the chance to grow up, to learn what it was to live, to love. He couldn’t let that happen.

“Stop,” he cried jumping to his feet and breaking the spell that she was weaving.

Morgana looked down upon him, anger in her face and madness in her eyes. “How dare you interrupt these sacred proceedings.” Her voice became venomous, her finger pointing as his chest. “It is because of you that we have been forced to offer up a sacrifice to Lugh in order to appease him.”

“Spare the child. Take me instead,” Jack said, stepping forward boldly, acting only on instinct, his feet climbing the stairs to stand at her side, pushing the child behind him, shielding the young boy from her. Out of the corner of his eye, several of the larger guards had started moving as well, but a small gesture from her hand stopped them in their tracks.

“Your death will not please our God Lugh.”

“What will? What can I do to spare the life of this child? Killing him will not appease your God.”

Morgana did not hesitate. “You must pledge your life to him and to his people.”

“My life is already in your hands,” Jack said, emphatically.

“But it is not given freely. Give yourself freely to us and I will spare the child.”

Jack looked at the small child, huddled behind him, clutching at his legs. The boy’s blue eyes were wide, pleading with Jack, asking for his protection. Jack looked across the gardens at the crowd gathered before him, noticing Egan standing quietly off to the side.

Jack bowed his head, realizing he was choiceless. If he did not agree, the child would die. That was not acceptable—especially when he had the power in his hand to prevent it.

Jack dropped to his knees before Morgana, bowing his head in deference to her—to her authority, to her power, to her sovereignty. He raised his voice loud enough for it carry to all present, the dais offering a unique acoustic, adding finality and decisiveness to his words. “I do this of my own free will. I give my life, my soul, and my whole being to you. It is all I have to offer.”

Morgana’s hand rested gently on the back of his bent head. As soon as the words left his mouth, a feeling of deep despair enveloped him. The darkness in his heart and mind was finally complete. He had made a deal with the Devil to protect the life of a child and, in the process, he had lost his soul.

Morgana’s chillingly bright smile was only eclipsed by the roar of the crowd.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“General Hammond, we have to go back right now,” Daniel’s impassioned cry echoed off the hard concrete walls as he burst into the General’s office without knocking. General George Hammond looked up suddenly and watched as Sam, Teal’c, Janet, and Jacob, a few steps behind, followed Daniel into his office.

“Doctor Jackson, what is the meaning of this?” Hammond raged, appalled at the distinct lack of protocol and courtesy as the horde trampled into his office with nothing more than a muttered apology on the part of Doctor Fraiser and Major Carter.

“Sir...General, we have to go back to Meath,” Daniel repeated, his blue eyes feral, his hair ruffled, the Tok’ra memory device still implanted in his right temple. To Hammond, Daniel looked like a wild man. His pale white appearance and his rumpled uniform did not do anything to help dissuade his first impression.

Hammond’s angry eyes roved throughout the room, piercing all those who would meet his gaze. “Would someone please explain to me what the hell is going on here.”

“Sir,” Sam said, stepping forward, drawing his attention to her. She was wringing her hands together, biting her lips as she pulled words to explain their intrusion. “We’re sorry for barging in like this, but the memory device worked and we have to go back to Ildanach.”

“Why does this request require the five of you to storm into my office yelling at the top of your lungs?” Hammond asked, trying to keep his temper under control. It was a tough battle. He was tired and frustrated and he still didn’t have the answers he wanted and needed. He was still mourning the loss of a good officer and his friend. Hammond continued to worry about the team that had been left behind. They were not the same, hadn’t been for weeks, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“I’m sorry, General, it’s my fault that they all ran in here,” Daniel said, his voice finally calming down to a more normal, Daniel-like level. “It’s just that now there’s a sense of urgency.”

“Why now? You’ve been back for the better part of a week. What’s gotten you all so fired up?”

“Sir,” Janet said, stepping forward. Apparently, she was the next in line to face the firing squad of her commanding officer. “Daniel’s fully regained his memories from his first trip to Ildanach. When you put together his memories with what recently occurred, it has given us...a measure of concern.”

“Doctor Fraiser, what do you mean? Someone needs to explain to me, in simple easy-to-understand language, what the hell is happening here. What did you find?”

“George, it’s not really a matter of what they found. It’s more like, what they’ve finally realized,” Jacob Carter said, pausing in his explanation to gather his thoughts. To Hammond, Jake could have even been consulting with his symbiote for all he knew. “George, Colonel O’Neill is still alive—or at least he was alive the last time SG1 was there. George, as amazing as this sounds, Daniel had personal contact with the Colonel, but due to a number of factors, did not realize who it was who had approached him.”

Daniel picked up the explanation, drawing Hammond’s attention back to the young archeologist. This was more like what he expected. He was getting answers, although these answers were just causing his stomach to do flips. “General, when we left Meath, Lady Morgana was searching the forests for a man. She was searching for Jack. Jack’s already been through more than any man has the right to endure in one lifetime at the hands of that woman,” Daniel said, his hands waving wildly as if to emphasize his words. His eyes took on an earnestness that Hammond recognized. “We left him behind the first time and then we returned, we made a treaty with these people, and left him behind again, not even lifting a hand to help him—even when he asked. The least we can do is to go back and find him and bring him home.”

“It’s understandable that you did not recognize him, but why is it that Majors Kovachek and Davis did not mention seeing the Colonel?” Hammond asked, his eyes boring into Daniel’s blue ones. He had to ask the question, but Hammond knew he wasn’t going to like the response. It was just the news he was dreading. They had left a good man behind to die. He stood, walking a few steps to stand at his open door, staring out at the Stargate standing proudly below the window of the briefing room.

“General, I don’t think you understand just what Jack’s been through. Lady Morgana tortured him, probably severely from the looks of it. He’s as thin as I’ve ever seen him and it’s an unhealthy thinness. With his beard and dressed like the villagers, he’d be easy to mistake on any given day.” Daniel’s eyes had regained some of the passion he’d been missing ever since they returned from Ildanach. Daniel was truly back. “Sir, he even carries himself differently. If we don’t go back soon, I’m sure we’re going to lose whatever’s left of him.”

“What do you propose, Doctor Jackson? How do you expect us to go up against a people that you consider to be savages? How do you expect us to defend ourselves against a people that can effectively alter your mind? We have no defense against that sort of thing.” Daniel’s impassioned plea had struck a chord with him but he couldn’t allow them to walk into what was essentially a trap. Pacing closer to the briefing room window, he gazed down on the massive gate, the time allowing him the opportunity to organize his thoughts. Vaguely, he realized the quiet shuffling behind him indicated his visitors had followed him into the briefing room. With the lights in the briefing room off, he could see them standing behind him, scattered throughout the room, their reflection in the glass. They stood patiently waiting for his decision, for the words that would seal the fate of their friend.

“Doctor Jackson, I would do anything to retrieve Colonel O’Neill, but I don’t see how that’s feasible in this situation. I have no idea what might happen if I send you back. If I send you back with several heavily armed teams we’d be effectively waging war with our newest ally. The President would not look kindly upon such action.”

“We’re talking about Colonel O’Neill here, General,” Daniel said, stepping forward and coming around the table toward the General, his impassioned plea urging his body to action. Daniel’s words, though, had turned bitter. “How many times has SG1 saved the world? Why can’t we expend a little effort to save him from certain death? What does that say about us? How do you think Jack would feel about that?”

Hammond turned to face the archeologist, his eyes narrowing. “Doctor, Colonel O’Neill would understand. He’s a military man, taught to weigh the options and act in the best interests of the many.”

“You’re wrong,” Daniel said, his tone firm. “I know Jack. I remember. Jack wouldn’t understand. He expects us to go back for him. We don’t leave our people behind. That’s what we always say. Or has that mandate changed suddenly?”

“Doctor Jackson, you know our policies very well. As long as it is safe, we will attempt a rescue. From what you’re telling me, Ildanach is anything but safe. It does not make sense to risk the lives of more men to rescue one who is most likely already dead.”

“So that’s what you really think,” Daniel said angrily, his back straightening, his muscles tightening. Daniel paced a few steps closer, his hands clenching at his sides. Sam tried to warn him off, but he ignored her, plunging headfirst into uncharted waters. “You think he’s already dead. You can go ahead and think that way but I sure as hell won’t. I know Jack O’Neill, General, and I know the kind of man he is. He’s still alive and he’s waiting for us to help him. All he needs is a chance, an opening, no matter how small. I’m not going to sit around here twiddling my thumbs when I can give him that chance.” Daniel turned on his heel to storm out the door when General Hammond’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Doctor Jackson!”

Daniel turned back to face the reddened face of General Hammond, realization crossing his face. He knew had gone too far.

“First, I do not react kindly to that tone in my office or anywhere in my mountain and I trust that you will remember that. Secondly, I can also assure you that we are not twiddling our thumbs. If the opportunity presents itself to organize a rescue mission I will do so, and not a moment sooner,” Hammond said, his voice turning quiet and deadly. “And thirdly, if I decide to launch a rescue mission I will do so because I believe it is the right thing to do, not because I was ordered to do so by a civilian archeologist. Am I understood?”

Daniel swallowed a lump in his throat before he answered. “Yes, Sir,” Daniel said meekly.

“Very good. Now all of you get the hell out of here. Some of us actually have work to do,” Hammond said, turning back to his office and his desk.

Once they were gone, he dropped into his chair, rubbing his hand savagely across his face. The encounter had exhausted him. Not only was he having problems sleeping, worrying deep into the wee hours of the night, but also he was emotionally drained. How many more people could he lose under his command? How many more letters would he have to write? How many more lies would he be forced to tell for the good of the country? How many parents and spouses would never know the truth of how their loved ones died?

Hammond closed his eyes, leaning his face in his opened hand, his elbow placed carefully on the desk blotter, lost in thoughts of despair.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Damn,” Daniel said for the tenth time in the past minute, as they stood in the elevator waiting for it to deposit them on level 21. He was slumped in the corner of the elevator. To Sam, it looked like he was trying to hide, trying to blend into the metal elevator walls and disappear. It wasn’t working.

“Daniel,” Sam started, cautiously eyeing her teammate and her friend. He was calming down, but he still wasn’t happy. His hair was in disarray and the memory device on the side of his face made him look frantic, wild even. “Deep down, you know the General’s right. I know you don’t agree with him, but he’s only trying to do what’s best for the command.”

“I know,” Daniel said, looking up quickly and catching her eye. “It’s just that...we...I...need to do something instead of pace through the halls of the SGC. If I was there, maybe I could actually make a difference. Maybe I could find a way to make it up to him.”

“Sam,” Jacob Carter said, pulling her attention to him, his voice thoughtful. “I have to agree with Daniel.”

Sam’s head came up sharply. She had fully expected her father to take the military line. His siding with Daniel was not something he would have done before Selmac. Apparently, his symbiote was having a good influence on her father—much to her surprise. “What?”

“Sammy, I happen to think Daniel’s right. We have to go back. I took a look at that herb and, by itself, it couldn’t have done what it obviously did to you, Daniel, and Teal’c. There is something else involved.”

“I must agree with you, Jacob Carter,” Teal’c said. The Jaffa had been very quiet as of late, spending much time meditating and kel-no-reeming. “Normal drugs do not affect Jaffa the same way they do other people. Perhaps it involved a strong telepath. The Gou’ald have encountered several species that have been telepathic.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking, Teal’c,” Jacob said, nodding his head. The opening of the elevator door interrupted his thoughts as the group made their way down to the infirmary and Janet’s office, where they could speak a little more freely. Only once they were all settled in Janet’s office did Sam’s father continue to speak.

“Janet, if I show you how to operate the memory device, will you be able to walk both Teal’c and Sam through the same day that I walked Daniel through? I’m not sure how long it will take. You can even have one of the nurses help you if you want.”

“Sure. Why, where are you going?” Janet asked, stepping forward a few paces, her head angled as if to catch Jacob’s words better.

“Selmac has some vague memories about a race of people the Gou’ald encountered long ago, but unfortunately the memories are fragmented at best. If I had to guess, I’d say it had something to do with the Furlings as well, but I can’t be sure.” Jacob rubbed his hand across his mouth, deep in thought. He was thinking out loud, trying to sort out his own faulty memories and recollections. He turned his attention back to Janet, his eyes narrowing as he tried to focus on one thing at a time. Knowing Selmac, the symbiote was probably giving her father a running dialogue as well. Sam didn’t envy the headache he’d have once he was done. “Janet, I brought an extra memory device, so once I remove the one I used on Daniel, you should be able to do both Sam and Teal’c. We need to know what they know before we leave.”

“Leave?” Sam asked, her forehead creased in confusion, as her father’s steps moved him back to the office door. “Where are we going?”

Jacob’s mouth was set in a thin line. “Right now, I’m going back to talk to George. We’ll probably leave for Ildanach first thing in the morning, so make sure you get some sleep tonight. If my guess is correct, you’ll probably need it.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It only took a few minutes for Jacob Carter to ride the elevator down the several floors down to General Hammond’s office. When they had first barged into his office a while before, Jacob had been surprised at the appearance of his friend. They’d known each other for many, many years and had been through some strange things together—most of which had occurred over the last few years.

This time, though, his friend looked every single day his age. He looked old. Okay, maybe not old, per se, but he looked tired, drawn, haggard, and weary. With the strange and taxing things that this particular command could throw at him, nothing else had shaken his friend as much as this one mission had.

Jacob knew that George had lost men before under his command. It was a fact of life. This time he’d lost one, but for some reason, this time it was different. Jack O’Neill was more than just a colleague. Jack O’Neill was more than just the second-in-command of the SGC. He was a friend. He was, in many ways, the glue that held things together. He kept the fight going. He kept things moving. He was energy embodied in the form of a man. Even when Jack O’Neill was dead tired, dragging on his feet and barely able to stand, he still kept going. The man didn’t know when to stop. Jacob was convinced that Jack wouldn’t know how to die.

When George had given up on Jack O’Neill, it didn’t seem right. George, of all people, should know the sheer determination to hang onto life that Jack personified.

Approaching General Hammond’s office quietly, he noted that the door was still ajar. Jacob took the opportunity to peer inside first, checking out the scenery. Hammond was sitting at his desk, much as Jacob suspected he would be, but it was his posture that was wrong. He was slumped in his chair, his head resting in the palm of his hand, and his eyes were closed. George Hammond was the poster child for despair.

Not a good sign.

Jacob tapped lightly on the doorframe, trying not to startle his friend.

George looked up immediately, his eyes finding Jacob standing awkwardly in the doorway, and a half-smile found a way to his face. “What can I do for you, Jake?” Hammond asked, his voice evenly toned, obviously not surprised that Jacob had found his way back to the office.

He had to broach the subject carefully, Jacob realized, so he started off slowly. “It’s more like what I can do for you, George.” Jacob said as he settled himself into the chair across from his friend.

George Hammond looked at Jacob, a perplexed expression crossing his face and his mouth turned down in a frown. That wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, Jacob noted to himself.

Jacob cleared his throat quietly and decided to dive right in. “You know, Daniel was right.”

“Jake, that’s not exactly what I wanted to hear right now,” Hammond admitted with a tired sigh, much to Jacob’s surprise.

“I know, George,” Jacob said, trying to organize his thoughts. “But, you had to hear it. I think you need to send a team back to Ildanach.”

“And why do you feel that way? I’m sure you’re going to tell me, whether or not I want to hear about it,” Hammond said, his tone resigned.

“There’s something else going on there and we need to figure it out. Besides, Jack O’Neill is not someone you give up on.”

George sighed, the fight going out of his body. “I know. I wish there were something more that I could do, but I don’t see any possible solution.”

“George, I don’t think it will be necessary to send hundreds of armed soldiers to the planet. That would just be overkill. And besides, we don’t want to tip our hand. I think we should send SG1 back to the planet. I can accompany them if you think it’s necessary,” Jacob added quickly, seeing the beginning of an argument coming to George’s mouth. He paused long enough to allow his friend a comment.

“That all sounds well and good, but the last time we tried that SG5 came back minus their memories as well. What guarantee can you give me that it won’t happen again?” Hammond was playing devil’s advocate and was doing a good job, much to Jacob’s dismay.

“I can’t guarantee anything, George. And besides, nothing in life is guaranteed except death and taxes.” Jacob sobered a minute later, getting back to the subject at hand. “I think if we go back with the appearance of fulfilling some of our end of the agreement, they won’t think twice about SG1 poking around. Their minds have already been altered. What harm could they do now? They’ve been back, and hell, they’ve even had contact with Jack. No one should suspect a thing.”

“That’s what you say now,” George said, obviously not convinced.

“I know it’s your final decision on whether we go or whether we stay, but if you’re asking for opinions, I’d say let’s go and bring Jack home.”

George stared at Jacob for a long time before answering. For a few minutes, Jacob thought he had lost the argument. He had nothing else to say. There was nothing more he could add to persuade his friend to go along with his half-constructed plan. Jacob kept quiet and still, trying to hide his restlessness.

George sighed once, long and hard, before speaking. “What do you need?”

“I’ll put a list together. We can leave first thing in the morning,” Jacob said, immediately rising to his feet.

“Fine,” George said as Jacob turned to walk out the door. “Jake,” George called, stopping Jacob in his tracks, just before he was out the door. “Just bring him home.”

Jacob turned to gaze upon his friend. George looked better. He had one thing less to worry about. Jacob spoke from his heart. “I will, George. I promise...and thanks.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It wasn’t even afternoon and Morgana had been in his quarters for hours asking question after question—and Jack was answering, truthfully.

“So the Goa'uld have been building up remote outposts in order to develop weapons and technology to fight each other?” Morgana asked, her voice sounding surprised.

“That’s what we seem to be hearing,” Jack said from his position at the window. He’d been there gazing out across the village and the forests beyond the walls since they had returned to the castle. As soon as they had returned, Morgana had used another finely tuned Goa’uld device to adjust the settings on the one lodged inside his head. It had tingled a little, which Morgana had assured him was normal. She claimed that she was adjusting the sensitivity of the device, allowing him better access to some of his memories without causing horrible pain. So far, it had been just as she said. If he thought too hard about home, though, the pain was quick to return.

She’d given him just enough rope to answer her questions, but nothing more—not that he was expecting anything.

“So, in your opinion, if you were looking for a Goa’uld controlled world with stores of technology, which would you recommend?” Morgana asked, dragging him back to reality. She was lounging in one of the chairs nearest the fireplace, her cloak tossed carelessly on another chair, and her close fitting dress leaving nothing to the imagination.

“There are a number of worlds that would fit that description,” Jack said simply, as he watched two young men wrestle in the street, a crowd gathering to wait for the outcome.

It looked like snow, Jack thought, looking at the gray sky above. Yesterday, sitting at the edge of town, he could smell the snow, even though it was still quite a distance away. It had been a game when he was younger, living in Minnesota, one with the great outdoors. He and his brothers had competed every winter for who could forecast the snowfall first. Jack had always won. It had been different back then, simpler.

But even now, hundreds of light years away from Earth, he could still tell when the weather was changing. Now that he was older, he had even more indicators. His knee was a dead giveaway, especially on this planet. Dampness seemed to be a constant companion here. Sometimes he thought that if he sat too long in one place, he would become covered in mold. So far, that hadn’t happened—much to his surprise.

The wind yesterday had been blowing strong and true, the clouds building and moving toward the village. By evening, the temperature had dropped suddenly, more so than it had the days before. It was then that the smell had made its final change. He had predicted then, that there would be snow by midday. He was sure of it.

A light snow had started falling a few minutes ago, nearly at the stroke of noon.

“My love, I imagine that to be so, but I am asking for your opinion. If you had a choice, which world would you visit? Which world would offer the least resistance?”

Jack turned then, tearing his eyes from the soft snowflakes falling outside to look at Morgana, a perplexed expression crossing his face. “Why?”

“I wish to visit one of these worlds and reap the rewards of my journey.” Morgana was much like himself, he’d discovered. She knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. There had to be some kind of result to merit the initial action, the initial expenditure of time and energy.

Jack thought for a moment, his eyes turning back to the scenery outside. “There are two worlds I remember,” Jack said, his thoughts proving difficult to pull together. He had spent too long trying to forget, trying not to think about such things. He absently rubbed at the scar on his temple, his outward reminder of the device below the surface. “Both were under the control of minor Goa’uld overlords, real nobodies as far as we could figure, but General Hammond thought it was too dangerous. He planned to revisit the planets sometime down the line, months, maybe years from now, who knows exactly when. Both worlds were said to have a large store of Goa'uld weapons and devices.”

For a moment, it was as if he was reliving those very memories, watching them unfold in his mind’s eye. His arguments with Hammond over both planets—P8X-767 and P3X-429—blending into one. His determination and desire to retrieve those weapons ran strongly through his mind—almost as strong as when he had first read the report describing the planets’ spoils. Those planets he would remember, of this he made sure, inscribing those symbols on his very consciousness. This would help in their fight against the Goa’uld. It was only a matter of time before he found a way to retrieve it.

Morgana’s voice drew him back to the present. “Very good, my love,” Morgana said as a sense of peacefulness settled on his mind, blinding him to anything but the calmness inside. “Shall we go to the Stargate and travel to these worlds? I’d very much like to see them.”

Jack turned back to her, resignation etched into every muscle. His words, though, were said with as much sarcasm as he could muster—not enough to write home about. “Yes, I can take you there, but we have to be careful. Those worlds are not a place for a lady such as yourself.”

Morgana stood, gliding the few steps to rest her hand on his shoulder, to gaze directly in his eyes. “I am not your average Lady, my love,” she said, her voice nearly purring with pleasure.

“So I’ve noticed,” Jack said, keeping his eyes locked with hers, which were alight with playfulness and delight.

She ignored his comment, instead, stepping toward the door, grasping her cloak in one single graceful movement as she passed. “I shall call together a small group to accompany us. We can be underway within the hour.”

Jack bowed his head. “As you wish, my Lady. As you wish.”

A swish of fabric against the door and she was gone, leaving Jack to stare out at the snow lightly falling, coating the ground in a blanket of white, covering the dirt and grime. Jack wished he were outside, the snow falling on him. Maybe the snow could cover him and clean away the blackness that had replaced his soul.

*~*~*~*~*~*

A frantic house servant met Egan as soon as he walked into the castle. Lord Kentigern requested his presence immediately in his quarters.

Egan bowed to the servant, assuring him that he would comply. Walking up the flight of stairs to the royal wing of the castle gave Egan time to ponder the reason for his summons. As of late, the only reason his brother requested his presence was to gloat over one thing or another. These meetings never went well, Egan realized, rapping on the door to his brother’s suite of rooms.

The door opened moments later to reveal Kentigern’s personal servant, Oran. “My Lord,” Oran said, bowing deeply, relief crossing his ancient features. “Lord Kentigern is not well. He has yet to rise from bed this morning. Please talk to him. You must see that he is well.”

“Oran, I will take care of my brother, fear not. Please leave us alone. We must speak.”

“Yes, my Lord. I shall. Call if you require anything. I shall wait just outside the door.” A breath later and Oran was outside, the door closing behind him.

Egan shook his head in amazement and strode to his brother’s private chamber.

Stepping inside, Egan could tell that something was wrong, very wrong. The scent of death hung thick in the air. “Kentigern?” Egan called, praying that he was not too late. The room was dark, the light from the main chamber barely cutting a path to the large bed.

A weak reply answered and Egan stepped forward cautiously, moving toward the windows to draw the thick fabric back to allow some natural light to enter the room. The darkness of the day, though, did not help to lighten the room.

Squinting through the half-light, he could see his brother’s form huddled on the bed, hidden beneath mounds of covers. Kentigern was muttering something, just under his breath. Egan stepped closer, leaning down to catch the words before they faded into the darkness.

“What is it, brother? What has happened?” Egan asked, hoping his brother could hear him and understand. Egan couldn’t understand what had happened. His brother had been in good health the day before, laughing and joking with his wife, enjoying a hearty evening meal. For something to come on this suddenly was unthinkable.

“Egan...”Kentigern whispered, his voice barely loud enough to rise to meet Egan’s ears. “You came.”

“Yes, my brother. I am here. What can I do to help you?”

“Nothing, my brother, nothing at all. I am a dead man. The raven visited last night. I do not have much longer to live.”

“Have you spoken with Lady Morgana to try and intercede with the Gods? Perhaps she can buy you some time...” Egan suggested, grasping at straws he didn’t even believe were true.

“If her intercession has not worked yet, then I do not believe it shall happen in my lifetime, brother.” A silent cough wracked his brother’s body leaving him gasping for breath.

“Morgana has been here and she was unable to help you?” Egan was surprised

“She said she would try to offer a sacrifice to appease the Gods. Oran reports that a sacrifice of the highest order had been offered and refused by the Gods. Once she returns, I will be able to say my final farewell to her.”

“There must be something more we can do,” Egan said, a measure of panic finding its way into his heart. It was happening again, just as it had happened to his father years before. Would he be next? How long would it be until he too fell ill to this strange malady?

“Egan, be calm. Now that I am gone, you will be crowned Lord of Meath. Rule as I would have,” Kentigern said, his breath leaving in a whoosh.

“Kentigern!” Egan yelled, reaching down to feel for his brother’s pulse, to feel the gentle rising and fall of his brother’s chest—anything to indicate that he was still alive. Under his fumbling fingers, Egan felt a light, thready pulse and his sigh of relief was loud in the enclosed room.

Egan quickly found his feet, racing out to the hallway where he had left his brother’s servant. “Oran,” Egan began, a plan forming in his mind. “Remain with Lord Kentigern until Lady Morgana returns. When she comes to my brother, you must come and find me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my Lord,” Oran said, puzzlement across his face.

“What are you to do?” Egan asked, wanting confirmation from the frightened house servant.

“Find you when Lady Morgana returns to her husband.”

“Yes. Do not forget. It is very important,” Egan said, rushing off toward the stairs.

“My Lord,” Oran called after him. “Where shall you be?”

“In the family library, Oran. Come find me in the library.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Egan pored over the books, looking, searching for something that had struck his mind while he stood over his brother’s dying body two hours previously.

His research had only deepened his suspicions. There had been a number of unexplained deaths—first within those serving in the temple service—priests and priestesses alike—then among the nobles, and then his father. Over the years, such unexplained deaths had continued to occur, but they were few and far between. These deaths always happened in pairs. Most had been explained by a quickly killing illness, a plague brought on by the Gods because of their displeasure. Each time, the sacrifice of a small child had helped to stop the killing.

This time, though, no child had been sacrificed. However, there had been one death—Turlough, at the hands of Lady Morgana.

Going back through the records, Egan made one further discovery: there had been no strange deaths until after Morgana arrived. Somehow, all of these deaths started and ended with her.

“My Lord,” Oran’s breathless entreaty sounded throughout the cavernous room.

“Yes, Oran?” Egan said, rising to meet the servant halfway.

“Lady Morgana is with Lord Kentigern and she has requested a party of armed guards accompany her to the stone ring.”

“How many?” Egan asked, his eyes narrowing as he considered all his options. He needed to move quickly, but it appeared that Lady Morgana was moving even faster than he had originally anticipated.

He would not underestimate her again.

“Twenty. She asked for twenty to accompany her. Half of those who accompanied her to search for the rebel.”

“Very well, Oran,” Egan said, patting the elderly servant on the shoulder. “Please see to any of Lord Kentigern’s requests. I will also accompany Lady Morgana. I must prepare to depart.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Oran said, bowing and turning quickly to race back to the upstairs chamber. He hesitated just inside the door, turning back to look at Egan, sending him a searching look. “My Lord, are you the new Lord of Meath?”

Egan’s head came up quickly, surprise filtering across his face. His tone was sharper than he intended it to be. “Why do you ask? Is Lord Kentigern dead?”

“No, my Lord,” Oran said, his words laced through with worry. But as he continued, strength found its way back into his voice. “I just...I know that Lord Kentigern will not make it through the afternoon. As we stand here, Lord Kentigern has probably already passed on.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It is well known that when there is one death, another shall occur. I had hoped it wouldn’t be Lord Kentigern.”

Egan was confused. The servants were expecting someone else to die? How did they know something that he had only just figured out? “What do you mean?”

“It was only a matter of time before she came for him too. It was the same with your father. They thought they were in love,” Oran said, his words echoing strangely thought the room. “It was not love that she was seeking. It was something more, something much more.”

“What was she after?” Egan tried to keep the surprise and astonishment from his voice, but was unable.

“Call it what you like. Some call it power, others the breath of life. Either would be accurate,” Oran said, pausing before he offered his final piece of advice. “I tried to warn Lord Kentigern when he was a young man, but he would not listen, You, though, are different. You would do best to heed my warning. Beware of Lady Morgana. She is not who or what she seems.”

“That much I already know,” Egan said, his voice quiet and solemn.

“Then you do not need my warnings, my Lord. If I may,” Oran said, bowing in respect, “I must prepare my Lord’s body for burial. It is the last act of respect to the former Lord of Meath I must perform.”

Standing speechless in the doorway to the library, Egan pondered the conversation he had just had with Oran. It confirmed his worst fears, but also bolstered his own determination. He had to do something for O’Neill. If he had to guess, O’Neill was next in line.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Egan walked with the group toward the Stargate. Lady Morgana and Jack O’Neill were in the lead, speaking quietly to each other. The lightly falling snow helped to muffle any sound that may have carried to his ears. Every now and then, Morgana’s arm would link with O’Neill’s and her laughter would float to where Egan walked beside Hywel.

For a woman who had just lost her husband, Morgana did not look upset. She had shed a few tears as the servants removed Kentigern’s quickly stiffening body from his chambers, but those had immediately dried once they were on the trail leading to the Stargate.

Her actions only convinced Egan more fully of her traitorous nature, especially toward his brother and the people of Meath.

They were nearing the Stargate, the ruins just ahead, the cold weather providing motivation for a quicker pace through the foliage. As they approached the clearing, O’Neill stepped forward, leading the way to the dialing device standing several yards from the ancient stone structure. Egan took a moment to gaze around, squinting through the softly falling snow as the valley below slowly changed its color. Much to Egan’s surprise, O’Neill’s voice carried through the clearing toward him, causing him to turn immediately at the sound.

“Egan,” O’Neill called out, standing just before the dialing device.

“Yes, my Lord?” Egan asked, moving steadily toward him. O’Neill had had no desire to speak with him these past several days, why now?

“Egan, in case you must come for us, you need to know where we are. I want to show you the symbols to the planet where we are going.” O’Neill looked briefly at Morgana before he continued. “Lady Morgana suggested leaving the information with someone at the castle. I’d rather leave it with you.”

“Thank you,” Egan said simply, bowing in respect. There was still something of O’Neill left, barely an ember, but something was there. But if the man was like anything like himself, Egan knew that O’Neill would stick by his word, his promise, and his vow that he had uttered before the crowd. It was the Warrior’s Way. O’Neill’s word was his bond. He would follow through even if it meant his death. Egan didn’t want it to come to that.

“It’s very simple,” O’Neill said, turning to the device before them, pulling Egan closer. O’Neill had a small piece of paper in his hand to which he referred. “These are the coordinates of the two planets that we’re going to check out. We’re going to this one first,” O’Neill said, pointing to the top grouping of symbols. “I don’t know what’s it’s called and it doesn’t really matter. All you have to do is push the seven symbols in order and then press the center dome of the DHD. The gate will do the rest. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Egan nodded, matching the symbols on the paper with the ones carved on the device.

“Good, because I don’t have the time to explain anything else. Lady Morgana’s in a hurry to get moving. Just watch what I do,” O’Neill said, slowly pressing the symbols in order. As soon as he touched the center dome, a plume of water shot out from the surface of the gate, eventually settling back into the confines of the stone ring, shimmering like the water upon the surface of a lake.

“And you merely step through the water?” Egan asked, his eyes wide. The rest of the group had stepped back several paces as soon as the gate activated, panic etched into their faces. As warriors, however, they stood their ground as best they could when faced with the unknown.

“Basically,” O’Neill nodded, stepping carefully around the dialing device, watching for the rocks under his feet. “It’s not really water, you’re actually looking at the event horizon of a wormhole, but I’m sure that Carter would—“His words cut off abruptly, a loud moan replacing them, as he crumpled to the ground, his hands clutching his head.

“My Lord,” Egan exclaimed, rushing to the fallen man’s side. As soon as Egan reached O’Neill, the man was already coming around, trying to straighten himself out. He was having difficulty getting his feet under himself, Egan noted. Taking one of O’Neill’s arms, Egan helped to steady the man, bringing him to his feet. After a minute, O’Neill felt strong enough to stand on his own, although he was pale and shaking.

“Thanks, Egan. Must not keep the Lady waiting,” O’Neill said with a half-smile, the humor never reaching his eyes. Morgana was standing at the top of the Stargate stairs, her eyes flashing in anger. O’Neill shuffled up the stairs, gesturing for the rest of the party to follow.

Egan watched them step through the pool of standing water, disappearing from his sight until only Hywel was left standing at his side. Egan was convinced he would not see many of those warriors again. They were going to an unknown planet armed with knives and swords.

Just what awaited them, Egan did not know.

They turned, starting to walk back the way they had come, when the gate closed with a final snap-hiss. Egan looked back, staring at the rock face. It was only then that a sense of dread filled his belly. The one man who could probably help them the most was not permitted to remember and he wasn’t even armed, going to battle with only his wits and the little strength he had remaining.

Egan sighed deeply, turning back to where Hywel waited patiently, standing beside the ruins at the entrance to the trail.

They were gone.

His brother was dead.

The people of Meath needed his guidance—especially now.

Egan had never felt more alone than he did right now, standing in the Stargate clearing with the snow falling gently around him, quieting every noise, every sound, with a blanket of white.

Egan shook off the feeling, shoving the paper from O’Neill deep into a pocket. He had other things to do besides think about O’Neill, Egan said to himself. He was Lord of Meath. His brother was dead and Egan had just let the murderer—his brother’s own wife—step through a doorway to another planet.

Such were the times, he thought, stepping beside his friend and companion.

“My Lord, are you all right?” Hywel asked, concern filling his voice.

“Yes, Hywel. I am fine. We must get back for my first official duty as Lord of Meath. My brother’s funeral is tonight and I must not be late. Come, let us walk.”

“Yes, my Lord. As you wish,” was Hywel’s only reply before the forest and the snow obscured all traces of their presence in the clearing.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Morning came quickly. After an eventful and emotionally charged day, SG1 found themselves hurriedly preparing for a rescue mission. Into the late hours of the night, they had sat, along with Jacob Carter, planning and preparing for the fight that might lie ahead.

Much still remained uncertain—there were too many variables to guess at just what could happen, what might happen. Finally, in the early hours of the morning, Jacob called it a night, the group finally deciding on the best plan of attack on their newest ally.

A few hours after their heads hit the pillow in their on-base quarters, they met in the gateroom, geared up, and ready to go. They were a motley bunch, Jacob thought, looking critically at the three standing before him. Both Sam and Daniel had dark circles under their eyes, the strain and lack of sleep finally taking its toll on them both. Even Teal’c was showing signs of stress and strain, although not as obviously as his human companions. His eyes were ever watchful, though, taking in their appearance and measuring it against what he knew about them, drawing his own carefully formed conclusions.

General Hammond stepped briskly into the gateroom, the frown on his face deepening when he caught his first glimpse of the two members of SG1.

“Major Carter, Doctor Jackson, are you up for this mission? If not we can postpone it a few hours,” Hammond suggested.

Sam and Daniel’s response was immediate.

“No, we’re fine.”

“No, sir. We’d rather just get underway.”

Hammond eyed them critically much in the same way that Jacob had a few minutes previously. “Very well, people. From the latest MALP readings this morning, it’s started snowing on Ildanach. Good luck and God speed. Bring him home.”

“Yes, sir” Carter said, stepping up beside Jacob as Hammond gestured for the gate technician to start dialing. “That’s exactly what we intend on doing.”

Teal’c was positioning FRED, loaded down with various essential items, at the base of the ramp. A feeling of eager anticipation filled the air of the gateroom. They had finally broken through their mental barricades. They finally had a purpose once again and this time they intended on fulfilling their mission objective whatever the cost.

This time they would bring Jack O’Neill home.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel Jackson stepped out onto the ground of Ildanach as a gust of wind swirled the lightly falling snow around his head, his glasses fogging instantly from the rush of cold air. He pulled the glasses from his face, folding them neatly, and tucking them into a pocket. Small clouds of water vapor misted from his mouth with every breath.

Daniel stepped carefully from the Stargate platform, allowing Teal’c and FRED enough room to emerge from the wormhole. He wasn’t in the mood to be trampled by a Jaffa or the loaded FRED. He was just glad Teal’c had volunteered to take it through. He always had problems getting it to do exactly what he wanted. Teal’c, though, never had a problem. He probably just gave it the Jaffa version of the evil eye and it fell into place, Daniel thought wryly, taking a moment to gaze at his surroundings.

The scenery before him was vastly different than it had been, but in many ways the same. The light coating of snow gave the planet a serenity that hadn’t existed before. The peacefulness that he had first observed was still present, however, and he took a deep breath, letting the calmness fill him. The perfect white snow covered the darkness and the secrets in a layer of outward pureness.

Sam had moved out to stand beside the DHD, her weapon pointed at the tree line ahead, her eyes efficiently roving the area, looking for anything that moved. She was playing the good little soldier routine, Daniel thought to himself, smiling humorlessly. He had tried to pull her aside last night to talk to her, to see how she was doing after Janet had broken through with the Tok’ra memory device, pulling the memories that had been buried back to the surface. It had been more difficult with Sam for some reason, Daniel recalled. Teal’c’s memories were restored quickly, but Sam was another story.

It had taken the combined efforts of Janet and Jacob to figure out the problem. Daniel had been half-asleep by the time they had figured it out. It had something to do with the memories of Jolinar. Apparently, they were confusing the Tok’ra memory device. Go figure, Daniel thought, chuckling to himself, nothing ever goes according to plan.

Sam was feeling guilty. He knew that. It was the same way he felt. Out of all the people to whom this couldhave happened, it had to be Jack. Life was funny that way and it apparently had a very cruel sense of humor, Daniel thought, picking his way across the open area before him. It was even more treacherous than before, the uneven terrain hidden by the snow.

It wasn’t enough that Jack got left behind for months in Iraq and that horrible things happened to the ones he loved. Someone or something loved to see Jack suffer.

“Hey, Sam,” Daniel called, approaching his friend from behind. With the way she was acting, he didn’t want to end up on the wrong end of her P90.

“Yes, Daniel?” Sam asked without turning.

“See anything?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t have let you come tromping across the rocks,” Sam said, her tone matter-of-fact. “You make as much noise as a troop of elephants.”

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll make a note to lose a little weight once we get back home. Maybe I’ll only sound like a pack of hippopotami the next time.” If she wanted sarcasm, Daniel was happy to provide.

Sam looked back, an apologetic expression crossing her face. She must have realized how surly she had sounded. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I’m just a little uptight.”

“No kidding,” Daniel said sliding up next to her as the wormhole closed with a snap-hiss. Daniel glanced back, watching as Teal’c and Jacob carefully maneuvered themselves and FRED down the Stargate stairs. Teal’c’s eyes, in addition to monitoring FRED, were scanning the horizon. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sam turned to him, sadness filling her blue eyes. “I just can’t believe everything that’s happened. I can’t believe that we trusted these people and just left the Colonel behind. It’s unthinkable.” Sam paused, drawing her thoughts together, her forehead creasing in concentration. “In some ways, I don’t know what I’m going to say to him once we find him. How do you apologize for something like this?”

Daniel turned to gaze across the snow-encrusted ground. “I don’t know, Sam. It probably involves a lot of groveling.” He turned back to her, offering a half-hearted smile. “And I’m good at groveling. Well, at least that’s what Jack always says.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Sam said quietly, smiling wistfully. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

“Me too,” Daniel said, as Jacob and Teal’c finally stepped close.

“Teal’c how are you doing?” Sam asked, squinting up through the snow to gaze at the stoic Jaffa.

“I am fine, Major Carter,” Teal’c said.

“No adverse reaction this time?”

“Nothing I can discern at this time.”

“Dad?”

“What, Sam?” Jacob asked, turning his attention away from the tree line and to his daughter’s questioning gaze.

“How are you feeling? Teal’c had an adverse reaction when he was here the last time. We thought it might have something to do with Junior. Is Selmac okay?” Sam asked, her eyes flicking about, but finally coming to rest on her father’s thoughtful face.

“I’m fine, Sam,” Jacob answered a moment later. “Selmac’s fine too. No bad reactions or anything.”

“Good. I guess we should get moving,” Sam said, gazing about one last time. She froze suddenly, her eyes going wide and her gun snapping around to point back toward the gate.

Daniel turned just as quickly, his eyes finally finding what had caused Sam’s reaction—someone was in the clearing behind them.

“Hello?” Daniel asked, figuring it wouldn’t be a bad idea to say something. The situation was awkward enough as it was, especially since the stranger now had three weapons aimed directly at him.

“Greetings, travelers. You are the ones who have traveled here before, are you not?” The approaching figure said, stepping carefully closer to the group, trying not to shout over the distance. Even with the weather and the blowing wind, the man’s voice carried fairly easily. To Daniel’s eye, he looked like he could have come from Meath, except for the fact that he was walking to them from the wrong direction. He was built similarly to Egan, tall without being muscle-bound and with a similar coloring. His dark brown undergarments complemented his long hair, carefully pulled back in a ponytail of sorts, and his full beard complimented his face. The leather garments looked warm and were of fine quality. The thick green cloak over his shoulders had a layer of fur on the inside.

Daniel was envious. Even with the military-issued boots and all his clothing, his toes were already going numb from the cold. He never liked cold planets. The cold air always managed to find a way past all his layers.

“Yes, were are. And who are you?”

“Forgive me, travelers. I am Caedmon,” he said, bowing deeply, his hand sweeping to finish the gesture with a flourish.

“Its nice to meet you, Caedmon. My name is Daniel Jackson. This is Samantha Carter, Teal’c, and Jacob Carter,” Daniel said, indicating each team member in turn. “Why are you in these parts? Doesn’t the Stargate lay within the territory of Meath?”

Caedmon had stopped an arm’s length from Daniel, who stood in front of the group, effectively blocking Caedmon from Sam’s P90. He couldn’t do much about Teal’c position to Daniel’s left side. He still had a clear shot, but his staff weapon was pointing up, not at the stranger. Daniel was sure, though, that Teal’c was prepared to shoot if the situation warranted it. At least someone trusted his judgement, Daniel thought acidly. He could feel Sam’s gun pointing in his direction.

“Even though these lands lie within the territory of Meath, the stone circle has always belonged to all the people of Ildanach. One man cannot change what has stood for centuries.”

“So...” Daniel said, chancing a quick glance back at Sam. She was at attention, holding her gun rigidly in her hands, her eyes unblinking. Daniel tried not to sigh, but it was hard. He turned his attention back to the young man standing before him. “Caedmon, what can we do for you?”

“I would like to speak with you and learn from you. My home is only a short distance away from here. Would you like to join me there? Perhaps we can break our fast together on this winter morning?” Caedmon’s expression was guardedly hopeful.

“Well, we’re kind of in a hurry. We were hoping to reach Meath by mid-day,” Daniel said, trying to let the man down gently. However, Caedmon wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“You wish to speak with Egan, perhaps?” Caedmon asked.

“Yes, we wish to speak with him, among others,” Daniel affirmed. Caedmon knew something that he wasn’t telling, of this Daniel was sure.

“Please, join me for a light breakfast and then you can be on your way. I think your time would be wisely spent if you did this.”

Daniel glanced back at Sam, looking for something, anything, but she wasn’t forthcoming with answers. “Sam,” Daniel asked quietly. “What do you want to do?” Daniel knew that Sam had only one thing on her mind—finding Jack. This would just be a diversion, taking a considerable amount of time away from the precious little they had.

Sam was silent for a few minutes, carefully considering her options. When she finally spoke, Daniel was surprised by her decision. “Let’s go with Caedmon. I’m interesting in hearing what he has to say.”

“As the Lady commands, so we shall do,” Caedmon said, bowing regally to Sam before he turned back the way he had come. “Please follow me. It is but a short walk.”

They left FRED at the gate clearing and followed Caedmon deeper into the forest. They walked in silence for several minutes, each person alone with their own thoughts. Daniel knew they needed information, better information than they already had. How much they could trust him was still uncertain, but Caedmon seemed more than willing to speak about the things that he knew.

A small stone structure appeared a few minutes later as Daniel got glimpses of it through the foliage. It was nothing like the castle of Meath, but Daniel was sure that it served its purpose. The area immediately around the house was well trampled, the remains of a small garden at the far end of the clearing. Smoke rose gently from the chimney. It looked like Caedmon lived alone.

“Welcome, travelers, to my home. It is not much, but it suits my needs. Please, come inside,” Caedmon said, holding the door open to allow SG1 passage into the building.

As Sam stepped past him deeper into the house, Daniel noted that she had relaxed, her P90 hung from its hook on her vest, her hands merely holding it to stop it from swinging. Jacob was quiet, but his eyes were wide, taking in everything he saw. Just wait until you see Meath, Daniel thought with a half-smile. This is nothing to write home about.

The main chamber was set up partially as a large entranceway and partially as a living room. Several cushioned chairs—homemade by the looks of them—were scattered throughout the room, most within close proximity of the fireplace and the warmth it radiated. A small kitchen area could be seen just beyond the main room, along with a sleeping chamber and a bathroom. It wasn’t big, but it was homey.

Once they had shed their thick winter parkas and settled down in various chairs throughout the room, Caedmon’s expression grew serious. He opened his mouth to speak several times, only to close it before uttering a sound. It took several tries before he finally put the words together. “I know you must have a number of questions for me, so let me tell you a little of my own history. As you can tell, I do not reside within the walls of Glyn Cuch or of Meath, although I consider both to be my home.”

Sam started to speak, but Caedmon held up his hand, smiling gently at her. “Please, let me speak, my Lady. There is much for me to tell and for you to hear and we do not have an abundance of time.”

After Sam’s hesitant nod, Caedmon continued. “I’m sorry if it seemed as if I spirited you away from the clearing in a hurry. There are many prying eyes these days. I was asked by Egan to keep on watch and to speak with you once you stepped through. He knew you would soon return.”

“How?” Daniel asked, the question slipping out from between his lips before he could reign it in.

Caedmon smiled at Daniel with understanding in his eyes. “As I said before, there is much you need to know. If you have not guessed already, Egan is my brother, actually my half-brother, many years my senior. I was born to his father and Lady Morgana nearly twenty-eight cycles ago.”

Daniel’s eyes grew wide at Caedmon’s admission and he was sure that everyone wore a similar expression. Things were getting curiouser and curiouser.

“This may be hard to believe, but Lady Morgana is not who she seems to be,” Caedmon said.

“We’d figured out that much on our own,” Daniel admitted. “We just hadn’t figured out just what she is.”

“She is from a race of people called the Kyredian. They were brought to this planet many, many years ago, banished here because of the deeds that had been done to others.”

Daniel noticed that Jacob’s expression of curiosity had hardened into one of understanding. Something Caedmon said had struck a chord with the older man.

“Lady Morgana, my mother, is the last of her people. The rest died off over the years, many because of infighting, only a handful to old age. Time passed slowly here, many of the Kyredians fighting each other for supremacy. Eventually the Goa'uld Lugh came and brought the people who now populate the planet. They prospered for a time, spreading out across the planet. Lugh was generous and really cared for his people. But eventually he left and another Goa'uld came and began treating the people harshly. The Kyredians had remained out of Goa'uld affairs, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. They could oust the Goa’uld and rule here unchallenged. The few remaining Kyredians banded together and fought the Goa'uld, sending them retreating back through the gate from which they had come. They buried the Stargate at that time and promptly forgot about it.”

Caedmon paused for a moment, taking a long sip from the cup sitting on the small table to his right.

“How were they able to fight against the Goa'uld?” Daniel asked quietly, trying not to spoil the mood that had settled upon them.

“Great skill in battle was not the way of the Kyredians. They use trickery and mind control to succeed, stealing the life-energy from their enemies. The Jaffa were easy to influence and were the first to turn. With the aid of the Jaffa, the Kyredians were able to defeat the Goa'uld overlord,” Caedmon said, looking at Daniel over the rim of his cup. “It is much the same these days I am afraid.”

“Caedmon, how old is your mother?” Jacob asked quietly, the question piercing.

Caedmon hesitated a moment, a long sigh sounding through the room. “She is several thousand years old.”

Daniel’s eyes widened at the answer. Several thousand years. That was unimaginable. “Why didn’t the Goa’uld take them as hosts? Right now, they use the sarcophagus to extend their life.”

“It is something about the body chemistry of the Kyredians, although I am unsure as to what exactly it is. The Goa’uld tried, but did not succeed. Instead, they were forced to obtain another host in order to survive.”

“Caedmon, what did you mean when you said that they stole life-energy?” As soon as Daniel had heard that phrase, his heart had nearly dropped into his boots. It couldn’t mean what it sounded like, could it?

“Well,” Caedmon said, starting slowly. “Although the Kyredians are a long-lived race, the only way they can continue to live is by feeding off the life-energy of those with whom they bond. My father was one of Lady Morgana’s victims. My brother was her last.”

“Egan?” Daniel asked, praying that that wasn’t the case.

“No, Lord Kentigern. He died yesterday morning.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said, genuinely apologetic.

“Thank you, my Lady,” Caedmon said, indicating his head in Sam’s direction. “She can only bond with someone over whom she has control. She controls men and women alike through the use of various herbs and her mind. It is very convincing.”

“Why do you say that? Did she try something on you, her own son?” Daniel was astonished. How could a mother inflict such an atrocity on her own child?

“She believes she is above all other beings. She would not hesitate to use any of you if it would add more days to her life. She tried to control me, but it did not succeed. She ordered my death as soon as she discovered that her control was slipping. For some reason, because I am a hybrid, she could not harvest my life-energy. My brother, Egan, helped me escape and faked my death.”

“Why didn’t Egan tell us any of this when we were here? Why didn’t he warn us?” Daniel was outraged. They had trusted Egan with their lives and he led them directly to the castle and into Morgana’s outstretched arms. God only knew what she had done to Jack.

“Egan,” Caedmon said, pausing to collect his thoughts. “Egan, did not believe all that I spoke. He thought that I had lost my senses. He helped me because he could not see his brother put to death like an animal. All he felt was pity for me. I have been hiding out in this forest since the day he helped me leave the dungeons of Meath.” Caedmon paused again, and this time Daniel was unsure if he was going to continue. “Egan was not willing to see what was before his very eyes. He would rather turn a blind eye than face Morgana and his brother Kentigern directly. It was only recently that he had a change of heart. It was once he met you that he began to doubt. He spoke with me on a number of occasions recently, asking questions, probing my memories, and looking for answers. He was unsure if he would be here to greet you himself, so he asked me to speak with you, to tell you my story. Please do not judge us based on your dealings with Lady Morgana. She does not speak for the people of Ildanach.”

“Egan mentioned that to me on another occasion,” Daniel said, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the silence that had settled over the group. “Thank you for your honesty, but I have to ask, what would you have us do? We have come here searching for our friend. He has suffered at the hands of Lady Morgana for weeks. We must try and free him from her.”

“Do you speak about O’Neill?” Caedmon asked, his eyes narrowing. The pit in Daniel’s stomach continued to swell, filling him with dread.

“Yes.”

Caedmon’s eyes filled with concern and anxiety. “I wish I was not bearer of bad news, but O’Neill now stands at Lady Morgana’s side.”

Daniel’s breath went out in one whoosh. He had thought for sure that Caedmon was going to tell him that Jack was dead. “That’s fine. At least he’s still alive.”

“No, Daniel Jackson, you do not understand. O’Neill stands at Morgana’s side as her beloved. He pledged his life to her. He is lost to you.” Caedmon was adamant.

“No, you must be mistaken,” Sam said, finding her voice. “He wouldn’t pledge his life to anyone, let alone to her.”

“I must disagree with you, my Lady,” Caedmon said, his reply courteous. “I watched him take Lady Morgana and twenty soldiers through the stone ring. Would he have done so if he did not stand at her side?”

“You must be mistaken. Colonel O’Neill would never do that. He’d die before he told her anything,” Sam’s words, while strong, did not have conviction behind them.

“I watched him with my own eyes, dial the stone ring using the other device in the clearing and explain that the standing water was actually the event horizon of a wormhole. I do not understand the words, but that is what I remember,” said Caedmon, looking directly at Sam, his eyes challenging her to argue with him, to prove him wrong. “He also mentioned your name.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. Does he not call you Carter?”

“Oh, God, yes, he does,” Sam said, her voice breaking a little at the end. She turned to Daniel, her eyes beginning to tear. “Daniel, we’re too late, aren’t we? If we had come back yesterday, he would still be here and maybe we would have had a chance.”

“My Lady,” Caedmon said, drawing their attention back to him. “Even if you had been here yesterday, it would not have mattered. The man you knew as Jack O’Neill died a long time ago. I watched it happen in the clearing of the stone ring seven days ago.”

“Seven days ago? I thought you said he was alive, standing beside Morgana. How could a dead man dial the Stargate?” Daniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This could not be true.

“She placed the small device of obedience on his temple, controlling all of his thoughts. I have yet to see any man withstand that kind of pain and pressure. Yesterday, he knelt down before all the inhabitants of Meath and pledged his allegiance—his life and his soul—to her. My brother watched him do this. You claim that the man you knew as Jack O’Neill would not have done this, but I must tell you this: he is not the man you once knew.”

“Do you know where they have gone?” Teal’c asked, speaking up for the first time. Daniel jumped when he heard the voice. He had forgotten the Jaffa had been standing in the shadows, silently guarding the team.

“I do not know. Egan was there, perhaps he would be able to help you,” Caedmon said, rising to his feet. “Come, let us go to Meath and see my brother. I believe it is time that I returned to the world of the living.”

 


	9. Chapter Nine

Damn, that hurt, Jack O’Neill thought, as he stumbled out of the gate clutching his head in his hands. The pain still reverberated under the surface, making his eyes tear and his jaw ache. He cursed himself for thinking, for letting his guard down, for reflecting about something he shouldn’t have. He had known better. Any bad thoughts would be punished—immediately and severely. He knew that.

He’d been so good, able to keep his thoughts from wandering, from meandering to places they shouldn’t. He had found that by thinking about only the present, only the things immediately affecting him, helped. It had helped to keep him focused on the here and now. Just to survive the mind-numbing pain, he had pushed his memories down, shoved them into a box, and locked it tight—or so he had thought.

That last thought, though, had sneaked through. Without warning, it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He decided that that would be the last. No point crying over spilt milk and all those other overused cliches, but he was done. His life from before was finished, completed, dead. He just had to move on and make the best of what had been handed him.

He was used to doing that.

Lady Morgana hadn’t been happy about his slip either, Jack realized. That he could tell just by her general demeanor. She walked stiffly, several steps in front of him, leading the way into the great unknown, her green cloak flying behind her in the strong winds, the gusts kicking up the sand. The muscles in her shoulders, from what Jack could see, were tight, her hands clenched in fists at her sides.

Jack sighed in resignation. He should go and make nice. It would go better later on if he did. Besides, he didn’t have to worry about the Goa’uld anymore. With Morgana, he had a secret weapon. A little groveling was not too much to give up for assured protection, was it?

Jack shook his head to clear his thoughts as he picked up the pace a little, trying to catch up to Morgana, but the wind forced him to push and shove his way forward.

He took the opportunity to glance around, checking what he could see against his faulty memories. There was no one guarding the gate, which was a good sign, Jack thought, trying to squint through the pain in his head and fight the wind. The ocean was still there, several hundred yards from the gate platform, its waters unsettled because of the wind. The grains of sand, although small, hurt as they pelted his body, hundreds and thousands of them, striking his body, getting into his clothes, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin. No wonder there was no one here, Jack snorted. It wasn’t exactly the best of weather. The Goa’uld were smart enough to stay inside for this—what did that say about him? The planet was warm, warmer and damper than Ildanach had been, but the windstorm was proving difficult.

According to the limited reconnaissance he remembered, the Stargate on this planet was out in the open with water on one side, sand dunes on the other, and very little of anything else around. The sand eventuallygave way to some small vegetation and then into thick foliage and rolling hills. When the MALP readings had come back initially, there had been a considerable force of Jaffa guarding the gate. That report caused General Hammond to put the mission on the back burner.

Apparently, things had changed since then.

As they walked on, nearing the DHD, Jack could see the remains of the original MALP that the SGC had sent almost nine months ago, lying dormant and battered, mostly covered with sand. Leaning down, Jack tried to wipe some of the sand off the machine, but realized only a small part of it remained intact. The cameras were gone, ripped from their sockets, as were the MALP’s robotic arms. Jack was sure that if he dug down far enough into the sand he would find every piece stripped from the MALP that could be salvaged.

“Lady Morgana,” O’Neill called, moving again, trying to keep up, trying to yell over the howling of the wind. One of the guards, Eavan he thought, heard Jack’s call and quickened his pace, getting Morgana’s attention. She stopped immediately, allowing the rest of the group to catch up.

To O’Neill’s eye, she was not happy, her eyes flashing, nearly as strong as the winds buffeting their bodies. Her words were tinted with anger. “My love, I thought this world was one to be conquered? Where are the great armies poised to meet us? Where is the city? Were you trying to deceive me, my love?”

Of course she was going to blame the messenger, Jack thought acidly, trying to control his initial thoughts—they would only give him a huge honking headache and he didn’t need anything else to worry about right now. His words of reply were calm, even toned. He was the epitome of patience. “Lady Morgana, I would suggest finding shelter to wait out this storm. There should be a small building several yards from here. It might be occupied, however,” Jack said, pointing off in the distance to the left of where they were standing.

Morgana nodded briskly, quickly making a decision, the wind whipping her auburn hair into her face. With a wave of her hand, she indicated to a handful of the guards to lead the way, the rest surrounding her and Jack in a protective circle. Huge steel blades were in the guard’s hands, held at the ready.

Jack felt naked without a weapon. He watched the guards, their muscles poised in anticipation, their swords and knives held high. He didn’t really blame them, though. Who knew what he’d do if he got hold of a weapon—he wasn’t even sure himself.

A few minutes later, fighting for every step along the way, Jack could see the faint outline of the building he vaguely remembered from the MALP video. He sighed quietly, relief flooding over him. He had remembered correctly. At first he wasn’t sure if he was confusing one mission with another. He had prayed that he was right. He wasn’t looking forward to being on the receiving end of Morgana’s displeasure. As long as he kept her happy, he was safe—relatively speaking.

Morgana gestured again and the guards spread out, surrounding the small battered structure. A few seconds later and the building was reported empty. Jack offered another small sigh of relief as they stepped into the shelter and out of the winds. Even within the stone structure, the wind whistled through. There would be no sleeping with that noise, Jack thought acidly, glancing around with a critical eye.

There wasn’t much left standing in the room—a few chairs, most with broken legs or arms, and a pathetic excuse for a table stood along one wall. It was clean, relatively speaking, a layer of sand covering the floor, dust coating most surfaces. No one had been here in some time, probably a few months from the looks of things, Jack surmised.

That was good and bad for a number of reasons. It was good if the Goa’uld had decided to leave, but what exactly had they left behind? Ruins? A plague? The Goa’uld were known to do that—and worse. Now, if the Goa’uld had just gone for a short trip, they could always return, arriving unexpectedly. That was never pleasant. You just had to make the best of things.

“Lady Morgana,” Jack said, drawing her attention away from the dilapidated furnishings inside the building. She still didn’t look happy, but it seemed that she was willing to listen and that was better than nothing. “I suggest we wait out the storm and then try to reach the nearest village. If the Goa’uld are still here, that’s where they’ll be. It would help to get some...information about the current state of affairs before we go barging in.”

Morgana narrowed her eyes, considering his words. Several minutes passed before she spoke, Jack’s spirits sinking with each second she delayed. Her unhappiness was directly related to how badly she would hurt him later. “Very well. Your...suggestion sounds wise and I can find no fault with your line of reasoning. As soon as the storm passes I shall send Eavan and Cori to scout ahead. They are the quietest of the warriors I brought with me.” Her gaze softened and a smile of approval found its way to her lips. Jack sighed silently in relief. “Let us rest and be ready to move at a moment’s notice. Adair, take four others and stand guard. I do not want to be disturbed until the storm has subsided.”

The young, muscular man nodded, pointed to four others, and stepped back into the gale winds outside. Jack shook his head. How much could they stand guard in that? He didn’t have time to dwell much longer on that thought before Morgana required his undivided attention once again.

“My love, attend me.”

“Wha—?” Jack said, turning on his heel to face her, confusion spilling across his face. Morgana had moved silently past him, settling herself on the floor. She was indicating for him to join her. His eyes widened as he realized what she wanted.

“I said, attend me,” Morgana repeated, her voice firm, offering no chance of refusal.

“Yes, my Lady,” Jack answered, stepping the few paces to where she reclined. He seated himself carefully at her side. She shifted slightly, maneuvering her body to lie between his outstretched legs and leaning against his chest.

Jack held his arms up, away from her body, not sure what to do with his hands. Wherever he put them, he’d probably find himself in a mess of trouble, he thought, panicking slightly. Eventually, he settled for placing his arms around her, resting his hands on her arms in a loose embrace.

Morgana shifted slightly against him, allowing his chin to rest on the top of her head. She sighed in contentment, her eyes closing.

Jack couldn’t believe what was happening. She was going to take a nap. It was almost unbelievable. He was on an alien planet, possibly with a contingent of Goa’ulds or Jaffa hovering in the wings, and she was taking a nap. He glanced up self-consciously. The rest of the group had also settled down to rest, to wait, ever patient, ever trusting of the ones standing guard outside.

In a strange way, it comforted him knowing that she trusted him to watch over her, to hold her, in such a personal way. He knew it shouldn’t, but deep down, a sense of pride rose up. He was wanted, needed even. She needed—and wanted—him.

Jack resigned himself to the situation, allowing himself to relax a little. He’d just close his eyes for a few minutes, he said to himself, as his eyes slid shut a fraction of an inch at a time. Minutes later, his breathing settled into a regular rhythm in time with Morgana’s.

A light touch woke him along with a quietly demanding voice. It was Adair. Even though Jack couldn’t see Morgana’s face, he could tell that she was also awake. Her body had stiffened slightly, no longer as relaxed as she had been in slumber. “Lady Morgana, the storm has passed and Eavan and Cori have gone to scout the area. There is a settlement not far off. They are hoping to find something quickly,” Adair said.

“Very well,” Morgana said, her voice strong, without any sign that she had been sleeping. “Wake the others. We will refresh ourselves with food and drink before proceeding. How long were we slumbering?”

“An hour or two at most, my Lady,” Adair said, his voice tinged with respect and something Jack couldn’t place, awe maybe. He shrugged to himself, pushing it to the back of his mind. He’d figure it out later, not that it really mattered. Jack pulled himself back to the present, away from his musings, and concentrated on what Adair was saying. “I will wake the others. Shall I bring you your refreshments?”

“No. O’Neill can attend me.”

“Very well, my Lady,” Adair said, bowing slightly before he stepped into the shadows. Moments later, his subdued voice could be heard waking the rest of the group.

Jack, though, had stiffened immediately upon hearing his name. He wasn’t pleased about the whole idea of waiting on Morgana hand and foot, but it seemed as if that was where this was going. It could be worse, Jack thought, rising slowly to his feet, Morgana allowing him room to move.

“The provisions were left by the door, my love,” Morgana said, her hand pointing toward the now closed portal. “Please retrieve food and drink for the two of us. It is time you ate properly. You have become much too scrawny for my liking.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Jack said with a humorless smile. Of course he was thin, he thought sarcastically. After a few weeks in the dungeon, it wasn’t surprising that he had lost weight. A brief flash of pain crossed his temples, almost bringing him to his knees.

Jack glanced back quickly toward Morgana, taking in her glaring eyes and down-turned mouth. “Please forgive me, my Lady,” Jack said, bowing low. He knew how to grovel when he had to. A few moments passed before he dared glancing up from under his eyelashes. Morgana’s eyes were narrowed, but her mouth was no longer encased in a frown.

“Very well, my love. I would recommend you take some time tonight to think about your behavior of late. It is not becoming for a man such as yourself.”

“Yes, my Lady. Thank you,” Jack said, inclining his head once again before he continued on his way, back toward the door and the foodstuffs. The ever-watchful eyes of the castle guards no longer bothered him. Whatever they thought of him was of no consequence. It was only the thoughts of Lady Morgana that mattered.

Jack was unsure just how much time passed, by the time they ate and repacked. Perhaps an hour, perhaps longer. Without a watch and without any outside indicators, it was difficult to judge the passage of time.

Morgana, of course, used the time to pick more of what was left of the memories of Jack O’Neill. Goa’uld tactics and past histories were explored in detail—or as in as much detail as he could recall. People and faces were fading, becoming an indistinct sea of humanity, of people he had once known, leaving him grateful for the companionship he now enjoyed with the castle guards and with Morgana. He was not alone, and that, in itself, was a comfort to him.

Adair entered the small building, a gust of fresh air following him in. He spoke without preamble, his words rushing together. “My Lady, Eavan returns. He has captured one of the city’s guards. Would you care to speak with this one?”

“Yes, I would, Adair. Yes, I would,” Morgana purred, a smile creeping ever more broadly across her face. She rose to her feet, dusting off and shaking her taupe-colored skirts, straightening the belt around her hips, lightly running her fingers across the engraved hilt of her knife. “Where is he?”

“Eavan has him outside, my Lady. Would you care to have him brought—“

Morgana cut him off before he could finish. “No. I shall speak with him outside.” Morgana turned to Jack, just before she strode out the door. “Come, my love. This shall be our first act together, bonded as we have become. Lugh must be on our side. Together we are stronger than if we had remained alone, are we not?” She extended her arm straight out, her palm curved up, inviting his hand to join hers. Jack hesitated for a fraction of a second, before he stepped up beside her, his fingers entwining with hers.

“Yes, my Lady. We are much stronger together.”

Morgana smiled brightly at him, her green eyes mirthful, her now dry auburn hair framing her face, giving her features a soft glow. At that moment, she was beautiful.

They walked outside hand-in-hand, and soon came upon the prisoner about whom Adair had spoken. A young man, no more than twenty, knelt before Eavan. Fear creased his face, his eyes were wide, the whites of his eyes clear and bright even against his quickly paling face as he watched Jack and Morgana approach. Even though his skin had a slight waxy appearance, Jack could tell that the boy was deeply tanned. The boy also wore loose-fitting long robes—a white undergarment beneath a more colorful long vest of sorts. His sandaled feet were dirty and dusty, as were the edges of his light-colored clothing.

An unfamiliar sword hung from Eavan’s side, longer and more delicate looking than the wide broadsword Eavan—and many of the Meath castle guards—preferred. Either way, it got the job done, Jack thought, eyeing the prisoner with interest. The boy was not Jaffa. That much was obvious due to the distinct lack of a tattoo—in either ink or gold—on his forehead.

Morgana approached the quivering form slowly, deliberately, radiating power and authority. She had released Jack’s hand a few paces back, as soon as the boy had come into sight. This would be an easy interrogation, Jack thought, observing the fear in the young man’s face. Jack stood silently toward the back of the crowd, giving him the opportunity to watch Morgana’s every move.

She circled the boy, her eyes roving his body from head to toe, taking in every muscle, every inch of his youthful appearance. Her unwavering gaze just increased the boy’s apprehension.

“What is your name?”

Morgana’s quiet question jerked Jack’s head up, his eyes narrowing in displeasure, as Morgana bent to speak with the boy, her head mere inches away from the shuddering form. Eavan and Adair stood at the ready, their swords drawn.

Morgana’s kindness and her gentility were all wrapped up in that one question. To Jack though, the tone was too light, too kind. She shouldn’t use that tone with a sniveling boy.

That tone—that kindness—was for him alone.

“Paebel,” was the boy’s shaky reply.

“Well, Paebel, there’s really nothing to worry about as long as you can tell me what I need to know,” Morgana said, smiling insincerely. Her voice was soft, clashing harshly with her cool gaze.

Paebel nodded, his body slumping in relief.

“Who rules here?” Morgana asked, getting to the heart of the matter at hand.

“Yam. Our god Yam rules Ugarit. He is a great and powerful god.”

“Where is Yam now?”

“He has journeyed far away to battle with Baal. We await his return,” Paebel said, basking in Morgana’s smile.

“When did he leave?”

“Many moons ago.”

“When do you expect him back?”

“I do not know. Perhaps many moons more.” Paebel looked at Morgana quizzically, gaining a little of his composure. “Who are you? Were you sent by Yam?”

“Yes, we were sent by Yam,” Jack said, as Morgana hesitated in her answer. Her eyes flashed angrily at Jack as he stepped forward, but she permitted his outburst.

Paebel looked at Morgana in awe. “Then you must be Athtar,” he said before turning his attention back to Jack. Paebel stared for several seconds before fear crossed his features once again. Paebel dropped to all fours, his head pressed into the sand. Paebel’s voice was muffled, but Jack could hear him. “Great god Mot, please forgive me for not recognizing you and Athtar. Please forgive this one for his sins and errors.”

Jack glanced quickly at Morgana, embarrassment crossing his features. She was not pleased, but this would get them into the city—and probably into the good graces of the current city leaders—with little trouble.

“Rise, Paebel,” Jack said, trying to put steel in his voice. “Who has been assigned to rule while Yam is traveling?”

“Ibiranu has, my Lord.” Even though Paebel was on his feet, he kept his eyes lowered in humility.

“Bring us to him,” Jack ordered.

“Yes, my Lord God and Goddess. Please follow me.” Paebel stepped forward, leading the way past the small broken down building toward the plains beyond.

Morgana nodded to the guards, gesturing for them to follow the young man back to the village. She took Jack’s hand in hers, squeezing it gently, a smile on her lips.

Jack returned the gesture with a smile of his own.

“My love, you have done well. We have won this city without a battle. You are masterful in the art of war and deception.”

“My Lady, we have yet to meet Ibiranu. Young men and boys are easily deceived. Older men and warriors are not.”

“True, my love. Your words are true. But with you at my side, who could stand against us?”

Jack thought for a moment before replying. When he did, his eyes smiled with hers. “No one, my Lady.” Jack took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, strength and confidence remaining.

Morgana gazed deeply into Jack’s brown eyes, searching his very soul. “Now do you understand, now do you see, the power about which I spoke?”

Jack returned her gaze unwaveringly. “Yes, my Lady. All that you have promised has come true.”

“Let us meet this Ibiranu and see what he is made of,” Morgana said, turning her head slightly to look ahead, at the city just rising on the horizon, just beyond the rolling hills.

Jack turned as well, following her gaze, greedily soaking up the visage before him. “Yes, my love, let us meet Ibiranu. But I am sure that we shall rule here before the day is done.”

Morgana’s words brought a rush of pride and contentment to Jack’s heart. “As am I. As am I.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“So let me get this straight,” Daniel said, plodding through the snow at Caedmon’s right. “Lady Morgana is your mother and your brother’s wife? That seems a little...well, for lack of a better word, weird.”

They had been walking for about an hour, mostly in silence. Daniel had been going over their earlier conversation time and time again, trying to make heads or tails out of the majority of it. He couldn’t believe that Jack—his Jack O’Neill—would ever pledge his allegiance to anyone, let alone a second-rate, Celtic goddess wannabe.

Caedmon glanced at Daniel, his expression unreadable. “For our people, it is not unusual for the high priestess to be wedded to the Lord of Meath.”

“But, when was the last time it was the same woman for two generations?” Daniel argued.

“It has not occurred until this time,” Caedmon admitted quietly. “It was years, however, before I found out who my rightful father was. Lady Morgana kept that information close at hand.”

“Why would she do that?” Sam asked, leaning in to listen to the answer. She walked beside her father, who had been unusually pensive, meditating on much of what Caedmon had said earlier. Teal’c hung back, his eyes ever watchful of the surrounding woodlands. Even in snow, much could be hidden.

“At the time of my birth and the years leading up to adulthood, she was not wedded to my father. For her, it was better that that information was not known for I stood up to her on many occasions. I was outspoken against her and many of her beliefs. Generally, it is better for the ruling family to be in unity with the druids,” Caedmon said, glancing in Daniel’s direction. Daniel met his gaze levelly, listening intently. Daniel could understand much of what Caedmon said based on his own knowledge of various cultures. Even on Earth, for many kings and lords, the church had much say in the way things were done, especially in medieval times. Many times, the kings and priests were one and the same.

Daniel had yet to find such an arrangement beneficial for the people whom they ruled.

“I understand, but your father had to have known something,” Daniel said, his forehead creasing in concentration.

Caedmon rubbed his hands wearily across his face, wiping some of the snow and moisture from his brow, before he spoke. “Unfortunately, by the time I discovered the truth about my true father, it was too late to turn him against her. I don’t know how she does it, but he was completely smitten by her, as was my brother Kentigern. He wouldn’t believe a word I said and he ordered my reeducation at the hands of my mother. Things just got worse from there.”

“Caedmon, I’m sorry to bring up these bad memories,” Daniel said, resting his hand lightly on Caedmon’s rounded shoulder, offering as much comfort as Caedmon would accept from him. “It’s just that we’re confused and a little worried as to what may have happened to our friend.”

Caedmon smiled weakly in appreciation of Daniel’s gesture. “Thank you, Daniel Jackson.”

“Caedmon,” Jacob said, breaking into the moment, his voice edged with concern.

“How can I be of assistance?” Caedmon asked, stopping to allow a brief rest for the group. Daniel was grateful. He didn’t much like hiking in the winter, let alone when it was snowing. Jacob’s expression was curious to Daniel, a cross between confusion and fear. Fear? Daniel thought, a bead of worry sinking into his gut. What could make Jacob afraid?

“Caedmon, you mentioned that the Kyredians were exiled here many years ago because of what they did to other races, other peoples. Who passed judgement on them and what exactly did they do?” Jacob asked, his tone firm and direct. His eyes, though, told more of a story. To Daniel, it appeared as if Jacob was merely asking for confirmation of something he already knew.

Caedmon paused for a moment before he spoke, gathering his thoughts. “Jacob Carter, most of what I am going to tell you is what I have received in bits and pieces through my mother, the Lady Morgana. I do not know how accurate it is or if it is indeed the truth.”

“I understand, please continue.”

Caedmon looked away briefly, deep into the heart of the forest surrounding them. From the woods and the gently falling snow through the trees, Caedmon seemed to gain confidence. “To the best of my knowledge it was a race known as the Furlings who banished the Kyredians here years ago. The Kyredians were experimenting on other races that they believed to be inferior. They were doing monstrous things, altering the basic building blocks of life, trying to find immortality. They succeeded on some levels, but only at the cost of other lives in a perpetuating circle. It continued here on Ildanach once Lugh brought his people here.”

“But if the gate was here, why didn’t the Kyredians just use it to gate to another planet?” Sam asked, breaking into Caedmon’s explanation. Daniel had wondered about that as well, but hadn’t gotten the opportunity to voice the question.

“Something was done to the dialing device,” Caedmon said. “I do not know what it was, but the Kyredians cannot touch the dialing device in the clearing. Instant death is upon them if they try.”

“Why didn’t they just have someone else dial the DHD?” Sam asked.

“There was no Stargate on their planet originally,” Jacob said, his voice quiet. “They didn’t know how to use it. They didn’t know what it was.”

Caedmon nodded his head in agreement. “Yes. The Stargate was new to them and they did not know how it worked, until now.”

“So Jack just opened up the universe to her?” Daniel asked, painfully aware of the answer.

Caedmon nodded grimly. “Yes, he did. He gave her the universe and the opportunity to live forever.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ugarit was a sprawling, bustling metropolis. The low flat-roofed buildings spread out from the city center, slowly merging to become one with the rolling fields beyond the hard-packed streets. Ugarit was nestled in a small valley, on the shore of a large river. Colorful fishing boats of all sizes could be seen from the hills above, some docked close to the shore, others heading out into the waters, toward the ocean.

As the group approached the village, many farmers in the fields waved their hands in greetings to both Paebel and the strangers accompanying him. Paebel was popular and well liked by many, Jack noted, observing the young man’s confidence growing with every step he took.

They weaved their way toward the city’s center, to the largest building sitting in the midst of a park-like garden facing the calm blue waters of the slowly meandering river. Jack could recognize many of the shops they passed—tailors, smiths, bakers, and the like, by the wares they had in their windows and on tables outside their shops. In the streets around the capital house, an open-air market could be found, where produce and goods of all types could be purchased. The docks were close by as well, and several men could be seen unloading crates and boxes from the hold of one of the larger ships in port.

A light breeze blew in off the water, much different than the howling winds they had been welcomed with when they first stepped through the Stargate.

“My Lord and Lady, please enter into the great house of Ugarit where Ibiranu resides,” Paebel said, stopping before two great white wooden doors, leading into the grand palace. Paebel gestured for Morgana and Jack to enter first. Jack nodded his thanks, but permitted two guards to enter before him, just in case. Better safe, than sorry and locked up in the local hoosegow later.

Paebel led them down a long corridor, richly decorated in flowing fabrics, lightly swaying in the breeze coming in off the water. The sound of their footsteps was silenced by the thick carpeting beneath their feet. The hallways and rooms that they could see were oversized, their whitewashed walls adding to the grandeur and majesty. This palace was grandly appointed.

Jack looked at Morgana’s content expression and a wave of pleasure rolled over him. This would be theirs. This palace and these people would bow to them before the day was through.

Word apparently spread quickly in this city, for as soon as they walked into the main chamber, Ibiranu rose to greet them, his arms held wide, and a broad grin on his face.

Ibiranu was an older man, his white beard was neatly trimmed, and his bushy mane of hair pulled tightly behind his head, spilling down his back. His robes were elaborately trimmed with various colors and edged in gold. He wore sandals, much the same as Paebel, and a long white undergarment. He looked regal and appeared as if he floated down the stairs to greet them.

Refreshments were sitting on a sideboard to the right of the dais, and a servant, dressed simply in a long white robe, stood patiently awaiting an order to provide food or drink as requested.

“Welcome to Ugarit,” Ibiranu said, bowing low as Jack and Morgana stepped close, stopping just short of the prostrating figure before them. The twenty guards accompanying them, stood back, ever watchful, their hands never straying far from the hilts of their swords. Next to the tanned and lithe appearance of these people, the guards appeared enormous in both size and strength, towering over all in attendance.

“Thank you, Ibiranu,” Morgana said regally, her power and authority all rolled into one. “We are here to relieve you until Yam returns himself.”

“Very well, my Lady, my Lord,” Ibiranu said, slowly rising to his feet. While his words were obliging, his eyes told a different story. He did not want to be relieved of his kingship.

“Ibiranu, I can read your thoughts. Must we make an example of you before the people?” Jack asked, his tone cold and steel-like, his gaze piercing through Ibiranu like an arrow.

The man shriveled under Jack’s unwavering gaze, his eyes lowering in humility. “No, my Lord Mot. It will not be necessary.”

“Very well. Have our rooms prepared and vacate the premises. We want you gone from here,” Morgana said, gesturing for two of her guards to step forward. “Eavan, see that he follows my request.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Eavan said, inclining his head to her.

“My Lady,” Ibiranu muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. “Must I leave the palace? Yam always kept me close...”

“Yes. He is not pleased with you and has sent us to rule until he arrives.” Morgana stepped forward, her eyes flashing angrily, her wrath plainly evident in the tone of her voice and her stiff bearing. “Must I exile you from the city as well?”

“No, my Lady,” Ibiranu said, kneeling before her. “I shall do as you ask.”

“Eavan, see that he does,” Morgana said, stepping around the figure, seating herself in the large throne on the dais. After a few moments, once Ibiranu had been escorted from the room, Morgana turned her attention on Paebel, who stood in the back of the room, clearly at a loss as to what he should do. “Paebel, can you escort us to our rooms? It is growing late and I wish to take my evening meal in my rooms.”

“Please follow me, my Lady,” Paebel said, bowing before he led the way through the palace, Jack and Lady Morgana walking side-by-side, followed by half the contingent of guards, the other half vanishing into the halls of the palace.

Jack glanced quizzically at Morgana, his head leaning slightly, indicating the retreating forms of the guards.

“They are going to secure the palace to ensure that we are not disturbed. They will return with a report shortly,” Morgana answered calmly, her smile quiet. To Jack’s eye, Morgana looked out of place, a dark beauty in an enlightened world. The light airy fabrics and richly draped windows in thick damask in elegant prints, white upon white, were a harsh contrast with Morgana’s hunter green cloak and taupe garments. He could picture her in something softer, the fabric draping and flowing gracefully on her lissome form.

Morgana smiled more broadly, breaking Jack from his musings. Paebel was slowing, apparently they were approaching the royal chambers.

Paebel paused only long enough to push the two doors open, revealing an ornately decorated sitting room, nearly the same size as the main hall in Meath. On one side, the room looked out on the palace gardens and on the other, the riverfront. Several rooms branched out from the main chamber, including an elaborately decorated bedroom and bathroom. Another door led to a series of rooms where Jack assumed some of the guards would sleep. These rooms, while comfortably appointed, were smaller, more economical. This wing also permitted access for various servants to the main chamber and the living quarters beyond.

Decorated in various shades of white and cream, the room was stunningly bright, the huge windows opening out to allow the continuous breeze to lightly caress those inside.

“Will this be acceptable?” Paebel asked, after Morgana and Jack had had the chance to explore, reverently gazing upon the furnishings. Morgana nodded her approval.

“Yes, Paebel. This will be satisfactory.” Morgana said, gliding her way back to the main chamber where Paebel patiently waited. “When is the evening meal generally served?”

“Whenever you wish, my Lady. Our Lord Yam generally preferred a large evening meal many hours after the sunset. We would be honored to provide anything you desire.”

“I prefer my evening meal to be early, before the setting of the sun. Would it be possible to arrange one for today?“

“Yes, my Lady,” Paebel said, bowing slightly. “I shall inform the palace mistress, Hurriya, and she will be able to provide you with whatever you desire.”

“See that she attends me immediately. If I do not like her, I will need to find another. I expect you to remain in service to me as well, Paebel,” Morgana said, her voice dropping seductively as she stepped closer to the young man.

“Yes, my Lady,” Paebel said, his voice betraying his nervousness. “If I may be dismissed, I shall relay your orders to the appropriate persons.”

Morgana stopped suddenly, her voice plainly indifferent. Her hand absently waved Paebel away. “Very well. Be gone already.”

As soon as Paebel had left, Morgana turned her attention on the handful of guards remaining in the rooms. “See to it that I am undisturbed until the evening meal is served. I also expect a detailed report at the same time.”

Eavan inclined his head to her. “Yes, my Lady. We shall settle ourselves into the various chambers. I will come to you when it is time.”

“Very well,” Morgana said. She paused, looking intently at Jack, who returned her gaze levelly. “My love, attend me,” she finally said, holding out her hand to him.

“Yes, my love,” Jack said, stepping in beside her, allowing her to lead him into the bedroom beyond, the doors silently but firmly closing behind them.

*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time SG1 got to Meath, they were cold and tired. Thankfully the fires were blazing brightly in the main hall when they arrived, melting the snow that had accumulated on their packs. They shed their baggage in the foyer, leaving their dripping wet coats to be taken to their rooms by the house servants.

As soon as they trudged into the main hall, their boots squishing uncomfortably, large mugs of Erskine quickly found their place in their hands and large blankets were draped over their shoulders.

Egan greeted his half-brother Caedmon with a smile and a warm embrace, the two men finally able to speak and interact publicly.

As the blanket settled over Daniel’s shoulders, he found himself looking into Egan’s expectant face. “Daniel Jackson,” Egan said, bowing gracefully, his gesture encompassing the entire group. “Thank you for again returning to our humble village. It is both an honor and a privilege to once again enjoy your presence. How can I be of service?”

Daniel was awe-struck by the humility found in Egan’s words. It took a minute before he was able to form an appropriate reply. “Lord Egan, it is we who are honored to once again be in your presence. We come here in search of one of our own, Colonel Jack O’Neill.”

Egan looked at the group, his expression growing dark and melancholy. “I wish I had better news to tell, Daniel Jackson, but as I am sure you are aware, Jack O’Neill is no longer here on Ildanach.” Egan paused, his eyes roving over the bedraggled group standing before him. “Perhaps, it would be best if you changed and made yourselves more comfortable. You have had a long and difficult journey.”

Sam looked like she was about ready to protest, but Daniel spoke, cutting off whatever she was going to say.

“Egan, although that would seem like the prudent thing to do, under the circumstances it might be better to just answer our questions now.” Daniel’s words held a tinge of anger, which did not go unnoticed by Egan. In his exasperation, Daniel had waved his hand, spilling some of the contents of his mug.

“Daniel Jackson, I can understand your reluctance to postpone this discussion, but it might be best for all of us to wait until you are more comfortable. This dialogue may take longer than you think. Please, trust me when I say, nothing bad will happen to you and I only intend on telling you the truth—or as much of it as I am able.” Egan bowed deeply, his posture subservient. “I must also ask your forgiveness, Daniel Jackson. I was unable to be completely truthful to you in the past, but the time has come where lies do not become us, especially between brothers. Please, let Kelan take you upstairs. Nerys is already preparing your baths and we have provided warm clothing for you to use if you so desire. I will attend you when you are finished.”

Egan’s eyes were hopeful, but also apprehensive, as they locked with Daniel’s. The silent communication between the two was heated and it was Daniel who broke away first, dropping his chin, his mouth set in a thin line. “Fine,” Daniel said, sighing into his mug. “Give us an hour?”

“As you ask, it shall be done,” Egan said, as Daniel got a glimpse of a pleased expression skittering across Egan’s face before a more neutral expression settled in. Egan raised his voice and held his hand high, gesturing behind SG1. “Kelan, please see that our guests are settled appropriately and food is brought to them. Please honor any request from them as if it were my own.”

Kelan nodded, inclining his head in respect. “Yes, my Lord.” Kelan’s gaze wandered over the bedraggled group, finally settling in on Daniel. “My Lord, would you please follow me?”

“Sure,” Daniel grunted, relinquishing his now empty mug to a passing servant. The rest of SG1 followed suit, including Caedmon.

The group trudged up the stairs, back to the same rooms they had previously occupied. Caedmon was given a smaller suite, across the hall, over-looking the village’s main square.

When Kelan left, the door closing quietly behind him, SG1 relaxed, letting their guard down for the first time since they had stepped foot on the planet.

“So...they seem like nice people,” Jacob said, looking expectantly at Daniel and Sam.

“Yeah,” Daniel said, grimacing slightly. He had a pretty good idea of what was coming. He dropped into one of the chairs in front of the roaring fireplace, basking in its warmth. Might as well be warm, he thought absently.

Jacob followed Daniel’s example and settled himself carefully in another of the chairs. Teal’c chose to stand, his face unreadable. Sam settled down on the floor, sitting Indian style. “So, Daniel, what is it exactly that gave you such a bad taste about these people? Because, from what I’ve seen, they are nothing if not hospitable and gracious.”

“Jacob—“

“Dad—“

Daniel and Sam started to speak at the same time, but stopped just as quickly, waiting patiently for one of them to continue. With a smile on his wearied face, Daniel gestured for Sam to speak first.

Sam weakly returned Daniel’s smile before she started speaking. “Dad, the last time we were here things were different...very different really. The ruling party, so to speak, has changed and I think Egan is much more receptive to us. I also think he’s interested in what we can do for his people.” Sam paused, her blue eyes clouding over a little as she tried to organize her thoughts and her words. “Lady Morgana and Lord Kentigern were very welcoming the first time we were here, but we later discovered that they had some ulterior and downright nefarious motives.”

Daniel smiled humorlessly. “You could say that again.”

“But what did they want? Did they ask for something that you wouldn’t give? What were the reasons behind any of this?” Jacob asked, exasperation evident in his tone. He rubbed a hand across his face, trying to wipe away some of the weariness.

“There was no need for them to ask, their motives are obvious,” Teal’c said, his voice quietly authoritative. “Lady Morgana desired power, more than she could rightfully obtain here. O’Neill was a convenient appropriation for her.”

“Convenient? Come on, Teal’c, Jack is anything but convenient,” Daniel protested, straightening in his chair, his eyebrows drawn together in anger.

“I have seen it happen on many previous occasions with the Goa’uld. Generally, there is no plan. Instead, the Goa’uld just wait for a convenient opportunity to arise for them to move. That is the way of a parasite. Such as it appears even now.”

“All right, Teal’c,” Daniel said, pulling his glasses roughly from his face, giving him free access to grind the heels of his hands into his reddened eyes. He was cold and tired and wasn’t in the mood to argue with one of his closest friends—especially considering, deep down, he knew that Teal’c was probably right. Daniel squinted across the brief distance to where Sam was sitting, noticing the scowl on her face. None of them wanted to think of Jack as being taken as just a convenient target. Jack was so much more to them.

“Sam, we should probably get ourselves together before Egan comes a-knockin’. What do you say?”

At her name, Sam looked up, an expression of surprise filtering across her face. “Sure, Daniel, Sounds fine. Dad? Teal’c?” Sam looked back and forth between the other two team members present.

“Fine with me Sammy. Besides, Selmac has been pestering me to get out of these wet clothes. “Jacob slowly rose to his feet, arching his back slightly to stretch out his back muscles. “If no one minds, I’m going to jump in first and get cleaned up.”

“Don’t jump too high, Jacob,” Daniel said.

Jacob turned back to Daniel, a puzzled expression on his face.

“No indoor plumbing. You might land in the tub,” Daniel said simply with a shrug.

Jacob’s eyes widened a little and his mouth formed a little “o”. “Oh well,” he said a beat later. “I’ve been in much worse places.”

Sam quietly retreated to her room and bath chamber while Teal’c settled on the floor, a number of candles before him. If there was one good thing about these castles, Daniel thought, watching Teal’c fall effortlessly into a state of kel-no-reem, it the vast numbers of candles. Teal’c could meditate for hours on end and never fear for a lack of candles.

Daniel smiled to himself as he leaned back in the chair, his feet up on the small table before him. He had never realized how comfortable this chair was before, he noted absently, his eyes closing slowly, the warmth from the fire finally drying his clothes and heating his chilled body.

He could hear Jacob splashing around a little in the bathroom, trying to clean off some of the dirt and grime that covered all of them. In the places where the ground wasn’t covered in snow, there was mud thatmanaged to fly up, coating the bottom of their uniforms; sticking in clumps and leaving dried brown streaks in other places.

Daniel was certain that Sam was enjoying a little time alone, getting the chance to clean up a little, settle the thoughts in her mind. This time also gave them a chance to reflect on the information Caedmon had provided earlier, as shocking as it had been. Daniel knew it was going to be a long time before he finally convinced himself that Jack had turned to the dark side.

Granted, Jack had done many things in his life that could be considered a little on the dark side—those nasty missions he never spoke about—but even at his lowest point, Jack would never give up. Jack would never give in under pressure. He was better than that. He was invincible—at least, that’s how Daniel always viewed him. Jack was the older brother you looked up to, who did everything and lived to tell the tale. Jack was a man of the world. He’d seen things and been places about which Daniel couldn’t even dream.

Just as Daniel was starting to drift off to sleep, he vaguely heard the bathroom door opening; his eyes popped open as a memory assaulted his senses. Jack had sat in this very seat, in this very position, on the night that he was taken from them. Daniel shuddered and he could feel Jacob’s eyes on the back of his head.

Daniel wasn’t surprised when Jacob padded over to the chair and placed his hand on his shoulder, a comforting presence, strong and unmovable, just like Jack.

Daniel was without words as he glanced up, his eyes relaying his thanks to the figure standing beside him in the only manner possible.

Jacob spoke a moment later; his eyes still locked with Daniel’s. His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper but carried easily to Daniel’s ears. “The bathroom’s yours. Go ahead and get yourself cleaned up.” Jacob offered a fatherly smile and patted Daniel’s shoulder, breaking the moment, urging Daniel to get up, to move, to get on with life and the things that needed to be accomplished.

It was going to be a long night, of this, Daniel was certain.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Approximately an hour later, Sam poked her still damp head out of her room, taking in the sitting room with one quick glance. Her father was casually poking through his pack, his hands and mind obviously too unsettled for anything sedate. She was surprised he wasn’t pacing. Apparently, he had also decided to change into the clothes Egan had provided. The trousers, long over-shirt, and the leather boots suited him, she thought, hovering in the doorway.

She had changed, as well, and was a little self-conscious of her new clothing. While the clothes were practical and comfortable, they weren’t what she was used to. The fibers were coarser, thicker, but somehow, they fit a lot better, allowing her a range of movement wider than she had originally anticipated. Sam was grateful for her own undergarments, however.

Her father must have felt her presence in the room, because he turned a few moments later, looking directly at her, a smile coming easily to his lips.

“Major Carter, I am glad to see you are rested,” Selmac said, clearly pleased to see her.

“Thank you, Selmac,” Sam said, slipping into one of the chairs and pulling her feet up under her. She paused for a few minutes, letting a comfortable silence fall between them. “What do you think about all this?” Sam finally asked, curious as to what Selmac had to say. Selmac had kept much to herself this day, instead choosing to only speak with her host.

“I am disturbed that you had to be subjected to the likes of the Kyredians. I had heard about them many years ago, but we had thought they were long since extinct. Unfortunately, that was not the case.” Selmac’s tone was grim, with an undertone of sorrow. “I wish we had known about this sooner.”

“We can’t go back and change the past,” Sam said, her eyes compassionate. “We’ve managed so far, we’re nearly done. All we have to do is get Colonel O’Neill back. We don’t blame you for anything.”

Before Selmac could respond, a light tapping at the door drew their attention. Sam uncurled herself, walking over to the door to open it. Teal’c was still meditating and she didn’t want to disturb him any more than necessary.

“Kelan,” Sam said, a smile finding a way to her face. “Please come in.”

Kelan bowed as he entered. “My Lady, are you prepared for your evening meal? I can have it brought immediately.”

Sam exchanged glances with her father, who merely shrugged, leaving the decision up to her. “Sure, Kelan. Dinner sounds good. Could you also ask Lord Egan and Caedmon to join us? I think it’s time we spoke a little further regarding why we’re here.”

“Yes, my Lady. They are both awaiting your summons. I shall inform them and Nerys of your request personally.” Kelan bowed again and was gone seconds later, the door closing quietly behind him.

Sam turned to face her father, noticing that Teal’c was listening and Daniel had opened the door to the bathroom. Sam’s voice was dour. “Company’s coming.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Less than thirty minutes later, another knock sounded at the door to their room. Teal’c, the only one standing, answered the summons, opening the door wide to allow several servants bearing overflowing trays to enter the room. Nerys directed the servants to place the trays carefully on a sideboard table that had been brought in moments earlier to serve this specific purpose. Plates and goblets, as well as various serving utensils, emerged from the depths as well, appearing before each member of SG1.

Caedmon and Egan entered a few moments later, after everyone had been served. Retrieving a mug of ale, Egan settled down into a chair he had pulled up to form a close circle in front of the fireplace. Sam, Daniel, and Jacob had already made themselves comfortable, claiming chairs earlier in the evening. Teal’c had finally acquiesced, sitting in one of the proffered chairs, finally convinced by Jacob that it would be easier to sit and eat dinner than stand and do the same.

Teal’c, always a man of logical thinking, couldn’t belabor the point.

Caedmon had also found a seat next to his brother. The two men couldn’t be more different, Daniel thought, eyeing them critically as he paused in his eating, taking a drink of his ale to wash down some of themeat. It tasted vaguely gamy, probably close to deer or rabbit, but he wasn’t sure.

Where Egan was broad, Caedmon was narrow. Caedmon’s face clearly displayed his rougher way of life, the skin more tan, weathered more than was his brother’s—even though he was half his brother’s age. Where Egan wore his garments, finery such as they were, with ease, Caedmon wore them uneasily, more at ease in his threadbare and practical clothing.

Their eyes, though, were the same. The same clarity, the same color, the same determination shined through.

Daniel imagined that beyond the clothing and the physical differences, these two men were more alike than they cared to admit to themselves—or each other.

Egan glanced warily between the members of SG1, watching as they looked up at him between bites of their dinner. Egan was obviously uncomfortable and, after a few minutes of being stared at, Daniel finally gave Egan the opening he was looking for.

“Egan, I know that this is probably going to be difficult for you to discuss, but we have to start somewhere. Why did you give me those herbs? And what did Morgana do to us?” Daniel held Egan’s gaze for a moment. Daniel could feel the juices from the meat running down his hand, but he ignored the sensation. He was more interested in what Egan had to say—and how he was going to say it.

Egan lowered his eyes and took a deep breath before he answered Daniel’s question. “Morgana has an...affinity for various herbs and plants and has developed, over the years, the ability to mix these into very powerful substances. The leaf I provided is very powerful used alone. Many people use it as a way to relax, although it is generally frowned upon because of some of its side effects.”

Daniel exchanged a quick look with Sam, noting her surprised expression. She mouthed a single word to him and he tried not to laugh out loud. The people of Meath apparently had found Ildanach’s version of marijuana. Daniel quickly turned back to Egan, his mind fully engaged once again in Egan’s narration.

“Morgana was able to create a very potent compound using that leaf and another herb grown locally. By distilling it down, she used it to make a person’s mind more pliable to various suggestions. Combined with her inborn abilities, she is able to concentrate and place memories or remove memories at will from the infected person. She can also place suggestions, deeply buried suggestions, into their minds, that later emerge. The infected person thinks that this was their own idea, but instead it was merely a thought planted by Morgana days, weeks, or even years before.”

“Egan, how could you have just sat on the sidelines not doing anything, especially if you knew what was going on? And, how could you bring us here, knowing full well, what she was capable of?” Daniel was flabbergasted at the ease with which Egan could speak about these things, almost with certain nonchalance.

Egan lowered his eyes, glancing furtively at his brother sitting silently beside him. “I did not approve of Morgana’s...methods but I did not know the full extent of them until recently.” At least Egan looked ashamed at what he had done, Daniel thought, although it was little consolation now. They had been subjected to her methods—as had Jack.

“Egan, I’m curious, though. Why did you give Daniel that herb? The only reason we came back was because you placed that herb in Daniel’s pack.” Sam’s eye eyes squinted slightly as she concentrated on Egan’s expressions across the table. Daniel noticed that she had been picking at her food, much in the same way that he had been, moving it around the plate more than actually partaking of it.

“I wanted you to return.”

Egan’s comment was mumbled and Daniel had to strain to catch the fleeting words. He looked quizzically at Egan, his brows drawn together. “You wanted us to return?” His disbelief was dripping from his words.

Egan nodded slightly, glancing again at his brother, apparently looking for support. Caedmon, although he returned the glance, did not speak, leaving that for his brother. Egan glanced around the room, unable to meet Daniel’s eyes. “Yes, I wished you would return and aid us in removing Morgana from within our midst. You were great and powerful and we knew...I knew, that you would be able to help us.”

“But why should we?” Daniel asked, his tone harsh. “Why should we help you? Our friend...my friend is gone and Caedmon tells me that Jack’s not the same man that he was before. Why should we help you get out of the mess that you have made?”

“Daniel,” Jacob said, lightly placing a hand on Daniel’s arm, not so much restraining him as in reminding him that there were others present.

Daniel turned to look at Jacob, anger flashing in his eyes. As soon as he saw Jacob’s tired smile and compassionate eyes, the fire within him died immediately, leaving him drained.

Daniel closed his eyes, pressing his loosely closed fist against his forehead, breathing deeply. When he finally opened his eyes several minutes later, Daniel noticed that Egan had quietly stood and was now pacing back and forth, his feet barely making a sound against the stone floor.

“Egan, please forgive my outburst. I’m tired and frustrated and it’s been a long day.” When Egan did not stop his movement, Daniel sighed deeply, placing his still full plate on the table before him. Placing his elbows on his knees, Daniel leaned forward, his shoulder muscles bunched and tight. “Egan,” Daniel implored, but was cut off.

“Daniel Jackson, it is hard to imagine a more terrible situation,” Egan said, swinging around to look at Daniel, his expression painful. “And here I am asking for your help, telling you of things that I wished I had done. I wish I could have done more for O’Neill. I was...fearful of what the consequences would be.”

“For whom?” Teal’c asked, his deep voice an anchor of calm in a sea of emotions.

“For my people,” Egan said, stopping suddenly to stare at Teal’c, who was standing in the shadows. A flash of indignation lit Egan’s eyes for a brief second and then was gone, replaced only by weariness. “The people feared Lady Morgana. They had seen the things she had done and they obeyed because of that fear. They trusted me. I did not want to lose that trust, especially because my brother Kentigern supported his wife—whether or not she was reasonable.”

“What made you change your mind with regard to this woman?”

Egan swept a hand across his brow, his eyes skimming over the table and his nearly full goblet of ale. He took a deep breath and, unable to find a place to cast his gaze, looked down. “I saw what she did to him.”

“That’s it? You saw what she did and all of a sudden you changed your mind?” Daniel was becoming increasingly frustrated, as was clearly evident in his wide-mouthed expressions and loud sighs.

“No. It was more than simply that one thing. It was at that moment that I realized that we are not so different after all. O’Neill is a warrior and he follows the warrior’s path, as do I. Even though he does not claim to follow this path, by his actions, I know what he truly is. He should be permitted the opportunity to live up to his obligations, his code of honor. Morgana, on the other hand, although claiming to honor our ways and our path in life, flouts our beliefs, using deception and dishonor to gain power and prestige. O’Neill finally pulled the veil from my eyes, showing me her true intentions. For that, I am forever grateful.” Egan bowed deeply toward Daniel, holding it a few seconds, a gesture of deepest respect toward an absent friend.

Daniel didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t argue with him. He also knew the kind of man Jack O’Neill was. Without effort, Jack had the ability to change the course of events and even people’s opinions, just by his presence. The SG teams looked up to him and loyally followed him every step of the way. Maybe it was charisma. Maybe it was Jack’s overwhelming sense of adventure and determination.

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

Whatever it was, Daniel had all the proof he needed. He would follow Jack to the ends of the universe if necessary, just to get him back home safe.

“Lord Egan,” Jacob said, his tone respectful. “Do you know where they went?”

“Yes,” Egan nodded, fumbling in his pockets, his brows creased in concentration. A few seconds later, a small piece of paper emerged which Egan reverentially handed to Sam.

Sam glanced up from the paper in her hands, her expression curious. At Egan’s gesture, she unfolded it, revealing the writing inside. Her eyes widened taking in its contents. “This...this is Colonel O’Neill’s writing,” Sam said, looking at Egan, surprise written in her words and her facial expressions. She scooted forward in her chair, perched on the edge. “Egan, how did you get this?”

“O’Neill gave it to me before he departed and instructed me on the use of the Stargate.”

“You know where he went? You could tell us?”

“Yes. He dialed the top set of symbols. He did not say where he was going, however.”

Sam’s eyes had dropped back to the paper during Egan’s answer. She spoke again, her tone nebulous. “Knowing him, he probably couldn’t even remember the planet’s designation.” Daniel could tell that she was thinking deeply, trying to place the symbols with something, anything to help them pinpoint where it was and why Jack would have gone there. He craned his neck to look at the paper clutched tightly in Sam’s hand. Daniel squinted, trying to make out the symbols. It was obviously Jack’s handwriting. Daniel could identify Jack’s scrawl from 100 yards—as long as he had his glasses on.

“Sam, do you know where those coordinates go?” Jacob asked, leaning in as well, trying to read over Sam’s shoulder. Teal’c merely stood silent, patiently waiting for Sam to speak.

She glanced up quickly, handing the paper to Teal’c. “Do you remember a few months back when we were going to do some reconnaissance missions? For a while all we could find were a bunch of Jaffa armies. I think those might be two of the planets General Hammond put on a list to be redialed in a year. Do you remember, Teal’c?”

Tilting his head slightly, Teal’c gazed at the symbols, his dark eyes scanning the page, taking in everything from Jack’s hasty handwriting and the shakiness of the lines to the symbols themselves.

After several moments, Teal’c nodded slowly, handing the paper back to Sam. “I believe you are correct, Major Carter. Those planets would be P8X-767 and P3X-429, respectively. Both had a contingent of Jaffa stationed at the gate. General Hammond thought it prudent to refrain from visiting until the situation had changed drastically.”

Daniel rose quickly to his feet, impatience written in every movement. “So, we know where they went. Let’s go find Jack.”

”Daniel, it’s not that easy.” Sam said, her voice firm, realistic. “What do you plan on doing? Walking up to the Colonel and saying, ‘Hi Jack, it’s time to go home’? I don’t think that will work.”

“Why not?” Daniel was not going to give in so easy. They were so close. He could feel it.

“Daniel, we need some kind of a plan. We need to know exactly what we’re up against,” Sam said, fixing Egan with a strong level look. “We need to know everything we can about Morgana and we need to know what kind of reaction to expect from the Colonel.”

“I can provide you with much of that information, my Lady,” Caedmon said, speaking up for the first time in hours.

“Caedmon, this has been bothering me for a while now and I have to ask. Is there any particular reason why Lady Morgana is called by such a name?” Daniel asked, his glasses dangling from his hands. He’d taken his seat again as soon as he realized the extent of the planning that was needed.

“I am not sure I understand your question, my Lord.”

Daniel sighed, rubbing the heel of his hand along his temple. “Is there any particular reason why she might have chosen a name that is linked with one of the Celtic goddesses?” At Caedmon’s puzzled expression, Daniel continued, his voice taking on his lecture tone—a tone Jack despised. “Back on Earth, the goddess Morrigan was a shapeshifting war goddess of lust, magic, prophecy, revenge, and war. She was also known as the Great Queen, Supreme War Goddess, Queen of Phantoms, and Specter Queen.” Daniel glanced around, noting various sets of eyes glazing over. “Well, that’s really neither here or there, I imagine, because it’s not like she can shapeshift or anything.”

Caedmon lifted his head, his eyes narrowing, looking straight into Daniel’s eyes. “On the contrary, my Lord, Lady Morgana has on many occasions transformed herself into a raven.”

“What?” Sam’s incredulous tone was echoed throughout the room.

“Then the legends are true,” Selmac said, his tone ominous.

“What legends? Dad, what aren’t you telling us?”

Jacob’s head nodded once, the only outward sign that Jacob and Selmac were exchanging control. “Sam, Selmac has had vague memories of the Kyredians, but one unique feature was the ability to transform themselves into various animals and birds. Since they didn’t mention it before, Selmac could not be certain that it was the same. Teal’c,” Jacob said, turning his attention to the stoic Jaffa. “Do you remember the stories of which Selmac spoke?”

“I believe I do,” Teal’c said, his eyes distant as he pulled the memory from deep within his mind. “It was considered to be a children’s story, a tale told to frighten.”

“You knew too?” Daniel asked, overwhelmed by the revelations happening around him.

“Only once Selmac pointed out the obvious feature. They were called something else in the story, however.”

“What?”

Teal’c paused, his lips pursed, hesitating as if the name itself would bring down their vengeance. “Soul destroyers.”

Chapter Ten

Teal’c had volunteered to return to the SGC in order to inform General Hammond of their plans and to get a few additional supplies. The plan was bold. It was daring. It all hinged on the fact that they would be able to find Jack and Morgana on a planet larger than Earth—kind of along the lines of finding two needles in a proverbial haystack.

It was a two-folded plan with two distinct goals: the first and foremost being the rescue of Jack O’Neill and the second, to bring Morgana back to Ildanach to atone for her crimes. In order to accomplish either of those objectives, they needed to enter the city undetected. Jacob, though, was adamant in his assertions that there were several cities on the planet. Knowing Morgana’s personality and insane quest for power, they were going to try the largest city first, which also happened to be the one closest to the gate.

Daniel hoped and prayed they wouldn’t be too late.

They’d spent the past 36 hours gathering together a small group of warriors—a handful loyal to Egan and willing to fight against Morgana—if necessary—to accompany them to P8X-767. Caedmon had decided to remain in Meath, along with Hywel, to protect his brother’s interests in the city. Egan would accompany SG1. He needed to avenge his brother’s death and would not settle for anything less than his absolute participation in the mission.

Sam agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

Teal’c had returned about 12 hours earlier with the extra supplies and General Hammond’s blessings. Jacob had only just arrived in Meath with whatever intelligence the Tok’ra had had on the planet in question. Apparently, the Tok’ra had been keeping an eye on this planet with a view to possibly using it for another base. Although ideally located and a lush planet with an equally friendly local population, it was still under the thumb of a minor System Lord. Locally known as Lel, the planet was ruled by Lord Yam whom Daniel was quick to point out, was the god of the sea and rivers in Canaanite mythology.

“How will this information help us?” Caedmon asked, puzzled at Daniel’s statement.

“Long story short, Caedmon,” Daniel said, his tone sliding into lecture mode. “The Goa’uld took various peoples from Earth and repopulated planets around the universe. Apparently, this Goa’uld is using the persona of Yam, one of the Canaanite gods. This god in particular was interesting because he was also known by several other names including Nahar, Yaw, Lotan, and Leviathan. His mythological character seems to reflect two temperaments, perhaps reflecting the calm summer when maritime expeditions are feasible and the stormy winter.”

“Daniel,” Sam said, her voice warning Daniel that he was going off track, as she pored over the files covering the large wooden table in the room. Her father had brought back piles of information with him and they had decided to set up a workspace in Egan’s study, adjacent to the main hall. There was much more room and it provided a better atmosphere in which to work. It also provided Egan with better access. As the new Lord of Meath, he still had a village to run and it wasn’t the best idea to be sequestered in an upper room with strangers—especially so soon after his brother’s death. It was bad enough that he had insisted on accompanying them to Lel. They didn’t need a riot or an uprising on their hands as well.

Jacob had accompanied Egan into the main chamber where several citizens had requested an audience with the new Lord. He was curious to see what they wanted—and to see if there were any potential problems they’d be leaving behind.

Daniel scowled at Sam before turning his attention back to Caedmon. “What I’m trying to say is that having a good working knowledge of the god the Goa’uld is impersonating usually helps us to figure out his weaknesses and how he might react in any situation.”

“I see,” Caedmon said, clearly still puzzled but willing to accept Daniel’s explanation.

“This city will prove difficult to enter undetected,” Teal’c commented, his eyebrow raised slightly as he examined some of the topographical drawings Jacob had produced from the various Tok’ra surveys of the planet.

“Yeah, I noticed that as well,” Sam said, glancing up quickly to look at Teal’c, who stood at her side. “We’re going to need an inside source, a way to get in. There doesn’t even look like there’s a lot of places that we can set up a camp. It’s pretty wide open,” she said, her finger tracing the outline of the vast beach leading up into the grasslands.

“Perhaps here would be appropriate,” Teal’c said, pointing to a spot several clicks south of the gate and just south of the city. From the maps, it looked as if some woodland began along this southern edge. That might provide just enough cover. They just had to get there.

“Yeah, that might work,” Sam said, her voice distant as she examined possible routes. Most took them in direct contact with the city.

“A path through here,” Teal’c said, drawing Sam’s attention to the eastern edge, “would be suitable for our needs. If we remain at the edge of the forest we may be able to continue on undetected until we reach the deeper woods. From here we would be able to plan our strike within an easy distance of the city.”

“I would imagine they have sentries that routinely patrol that area, especially since it’s so obvious to us,” Sam said, her forehead creased in concentration. She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease some of the stress that was building there. The longer they delayed, the longer Colonel O’Neill was in the clutches of a mad woman. But, in order to pull this off, they needed to get it right the first time and, for that, they needed to plan carefully.

“I am sure one of those sentries will be most willing to answer our questions,” Teal’c said, simply hinting at the various possibilities, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

The door to the room opened, revealing a weary Jacob Carter. He closed the door quietly behind him, trying not to disturb Daniel and Caedmon’s conversation. The two men had moved into the far corner near the fireplace and were speaking intently in low tones. Teal’c narrowed his eyes, looking at them, but quickly turned his attention to Jacob, who had stepped over to the table and was eyeing the large map, held down on all four corners by various weighted objects—mainly candlestick holders. They were going to have to find something to replace two of them quickly unless they didn’t mind wax on the map.

“So, how do things look?” Jacob asked, eyeing Sam and Teal’c carefully.

“Well,” Sam said, taking a deep breath. “It looks like Teal’c’s found us a good base of operations. It won’t be easy to get to, especially with the FRED, but we have to go the long way around if we plan to stay out of sight.” Sam’s finger traced the route for her father, tapping their destination with finality. “From here we should have easy access into the city.”

“Looks good. When do we leave?”

Sam glanced up, surprised at her father’s impatience. “Dad, you just got here. Don’t you think it might be a good idea for you to rest a little first?”

Jacob frowned, dropping his eyes back to the map and their route. “Yeah, I know, but I have a funny feeling about this.”

“A funny feeling?” Teal’c eyebrow was at full tilt. “Would this funny feeling be anything like the heebie jeebies?”

Jacob looked expectantly at his daughter who simply smiled and offered a weak excuse. “He’s been hanging around Colonel O’Neill too much.”

“Oh,” Jacob said, as he turned, hearing Daniel and Caedmon approach—both wearing distinctly gloomy expressions.

“What’s wrong, Daniel?” Sam asked, her voice laced with worry.

“When are we leaving?” Daniel asked, ignoring Sam’s question.

“I was thinking about first thing in the morning. Why?”

“I guess that’ll be fine,” Daniel said, his blue eyes staring at a fixed point somewhere beyond Sam.

“Daniel,” Sam said a little more forcefully, drawing Daniel’s attention to her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just something Caedmon was saying. It’s nothing really,” Daniel said, pointedly vague, his eyes flashing a warning. He obviously wanted to speak in private, but they were all in this together—and her father had the right to know.

“Daniel,” Sam said, her tone ominous and unmoving.

He sighed, glancing back and forth between Sam’s eyes and a point just above her left shoulder. It made her want to turn to see what he was looking at, but she fought the urge. “Caedmon mentioned something...disturbing about the mind pressure Morgana is able to produce. If Jack willingly went with her, we have to assume that he might have gone dark side on us.”

“What? What do you mean?” Sam asked, aghast at the possibility. It was a concept around which she couldn’t wrap her mind.

“Do you think she is able to unduly influence O’Neill?” Teal’c asked, his manner direct and to the point. He stood erect, his face calm, as if he were discussing the weather and not his friend’s state of mental health.

“Brainwash, Teal’c,” Daniel said, his shoulders slumping. “And yes, I think she may have.” Daniel raised his eyes, his gaze taking in everyone in the room. “I think we all have to consider the possibility that Jack might not want to come home.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel slept fitfully that night, waking up several times. The last time, around five in the morning, he finally gave up pretending to sleep and instead rose, padding quietly into the small sitting room. The fire was still burning but was getting low, so he bent down, lifting several pieces of wood to place on the top of the pile, watching the flames slowly engulf the logs. Sounds of peaceful slumber could be heard throughout the room, as he stood before the fire in his bare feet, his arms crossed in front of him.

Bare-chested, Daniel sighed deeply; his attention fixed solely on the flames before him, leaping up from the fresh logs. He shivered as a chill raced up his spine, bringing goosebumps to his arms. At this point in time, Daniel thought, it would be foolish to try and go back to sleep—especially since they were planning to get up in less than an hour anyway. He was too wired to sleep. He’d just end up making himself more tired in the long run. He was worried. He knew the symptoms.

Daniel walked back into his room, pulling on socks and his boots. While he appreciated the clothing Egan had provided, he still preferred his cotton socks and boots. Tugging on an oversized tunic, he also grabbed the thick winter cloak Egan had given him. It was double layered with a thick well-oiled outer layer and a lighter inner layer, providing more than adequate warmth and protection from the elements.

Grabbing a pen and a blank piece of paper, he quickly scribbled a note, explaining his absence and his plans to return within the hour.

Shrugging on the cloak, he stepped out into the darkened hallway, quietly closing the door behind him with a click. The castle was silent around him, deep in the realms of dreams and darkness. He moved down the stairs, toward the main level, not surprised to find a single guard step out of the darkness, offering him a polite nod and letting him pass.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to go on early morning strolls. The house servants appeared to be accustomed to movement within the castle. He’d encountered the same guard the past two nights.

Daniel moved to the castle’s front door and silently let himself out, closing it softly behind him. He stood for a minute, breathing deeply, taking in the crisp, cold air. It had stopped snowing, but the heavy gray sky still held an ominous threat of more to come. Hopefully, they would already be on their way by the time the next storm arrived.

Pointing himself toward the castle gardens, Daniel moved quietly and with purpose. He wanted to see the spot where Jack had bent his knee, pledging his allegiance. Egan and Caedmon had both offered to bring him when he mentioned it the first day they had arrived, but he had put them off, making excuses. In reality, he needed to do this alone.

The snow wasn’t deep, but provided a thick coating on the ground, muffling his footfalls. Stepping into the garden, Daniel stopped, holding his breath. Even covered in snow, the garden had a magical quality. The raised altar was imposing at the far end of the garden, large stones standing tall against a backdrop of thick green pines.

Daniel slowly approached it, trying his best to follow the paths, avoiding the plantings as much as possible. He had no desire to trample the beauty here, even though it had been the setting for something sinister.

Stepping up, he strode to the altar, brushing the snow away, revealing the unnatural red of the stone. Daniel looked out, turning his eyes away from the stain, as if it might vanish if he did not look. How many lives had been taken on this very spot? How many people had put faith in her?

He’d never know.

Daniel sank down, sitting on the edge of the altar, his head in his hands. With the aid of Egan’s explanation, Daniel could picture what had happened on this very spot in his mind’s eye. Egan had told him that Morgana was going to offer up a child, a boy, to try and appease the gods. Instinctively, Daniel knew what Jack would have done. Jack would have offered his own life in place of the child. He wouldn’t have hesitated, he wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even considered the price. Willingly, he would have offered his life.

His willingness that day had been his downfall.

From how Caedmon explained it, once someone freely gave himself or herself, they were bonded to the Kyredian or Kyredians to whom they pledged. In the case of Jack O’Neill, he had bonded himself to Morgana. This bond permitted her access to his mind, his thoughts, and his emotions, drawing on his strength as if it were her own. Just what thoughts or impressions she placed in his mind, Daniel did not know, could not even imagine. But, Daniel did know one thing, once Jack gave her what she wanted, it would only be a matter of time before she moved on to someone new, taking his life energy with her.

They had to get there before that happened.

Daniel didn’t know how long he sat there staring at his feet and the patterns his boots made in the snow before Hywel’s deep voice drew him back to the present. He raised his head, his eyes settling on the man before him.

“My lord?” Hywel asked, his voice carrying peculiarly across the distance, the snow soaking up the sound.

“Yes, Hywel?” Weariness had settled into Daniel’s voice.

“Egan has asked for me to guide you back to the castle. He wishes to speak with you. He said it was important.”

Daniel turned away, gazing out across the wide open field stretching down into the snow-covered valley below Meath. “It can wait.”

“My lord, Egan said it had something to do with your friend, the one you seek.”

Daniel turned, looking sharply at Hywel, his eyes narrowing. Egan knew what would catch his attention that was for sure. Daniel sighed, finally rising to his feet. “Fine. Lead the way.” Daniel said, gesturing to Hywel with a wide sweep of his hand.

They walked quickly and in silence until they reached the castle door. “Lord Egan is waiting for you in the main hall,” Hywel said, holding the door open for Daniel.

“Thanks, Hywel,” Daniel said, offering a weak smile. He shrugged out of his cloak, handing it to Hywel, who scurried off with it, up the stairs. Daniel assumed he was taking it back to the room. He hoped so. He was growing attached to that garment. Shaking his head, Daniel walked to the open doors of the main chamber, and stepped inside. Egan was sitting in a pool of light at the far end of the room. Egan must have felt Daniel’s presence, for as soon as Daniel stepped in the room, Egan glanced up greeting him with a smile.

Egan rose, meeting Daniel halfway. “Good morning, Daniel Jackson. Thank you for joining me.”

“Hywel mentioned that you wanted to talk about Jack,” Daniel said, his tone and manner direct. On the walk back, a heaviness had settled over him, making every step an effort. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Egan nodded slowly. ”Yes. I actually wanted to show you something. I thought you might need to see this before we left. It may help to settle your troubled mind.” At Daniel’s quizzical expression, Egan continued. “Your friend did not give up easily, although to you it might seem as if he did. Please come with me and let me show you where he spent his days and nights while he was a guest in the castle. It will not be easy for you to see, but it will help you to understand.”

“Egan, I have a pretty good idea what Morgana did to him. I really don’t need to see it,” Daniel said, turning away from Egan in disgust.

“Daniel, there is more that you need to see, to know, before we meet up with O’Neill and Morgana.” Egan was adamant and apparently not taking “No” for an answer.

Daniel sighed deeply, closing his eyes and rubbing his hand across his face. He’d left his glasses in the room and the squinting had already given him a slight headache. Now, this conversation was just compounding the pain. “Fine.”

Egan nodded. “Very well. Please follow me.” With a swish of fabric, Egan walked past Daniel and out the door, pausing long enough for Daniel to catch up.

They walked in silence, first up the stairs to the second level and then down several hallways, most of which Daniel had never seen, before finally entering a small hallway leading to a long steep staircase descending into the foundations of the castle.

As they made their way down the stairs, cool, damp air swirled upward, chilling Daniel, making him wish for his cloak. They walked past several small rooms, dungeons really, the dirt floors scuffed and lumpy with rocks.

Daniel paused at the door to one of the rooms, the small makeshift bed toward the back of the cell catching his eye. His gaze took in every detail of the small room: the metal loop high on the wall, a chain still connected; the rough wool blankets; one small goblet turned on its side, its contents long gone, absorbed into the floor; reddish brown stains on the back wall.

Without realizing, Daniel had stepped into the room, kneeling down on the blankets, his fingers lifting an object from the dirt on the floor. He turned it over several times, feeling its weight, the chain jingling with its every movement.

Daniel turned just enough to look at Egan, who had paced back to stand in the doorway, his eyes unreadable. Daniel’s voice was harsh, guttural even. “Egan, what is this?”

Egan’s response was quiet as if he didn’t want to disturb, even though there was no one here. “Morgana referred to it as her leash of obedience.”

Daniel turned back to look at the object in his hand in disgust. Flecks of dried blood blended in with the dark metal. Fury rose within him and when he spoke, he spoke with a deep timbre, his voice shaking with anger. “She left him here, leashed him as if he were an animal. Dogs get treated better than the way she treated him.” He threw the leash down, rising to his feet, his blue eyes bright with pain. “Why did you bring me here?”

“You need to understand. You need to see what he did to save you, to protect you.”

“What? Protect me from what? He’s the one who needed protection and no one seemed to care about him.”

“On the contrary, we did what we could to help him while he was here, but there was more at stake than just his life, as you well know,” Egan said calmly. He looked Daniel over critically before continuing. “Come.”

Sighing deeply, Daniel followed.

Down a dark hallway, lit only by a single torch, Daniel followed Egan. Reaching the end, the door opened and the light came on, revealing the room beyond. Wide-eyed, Daniel stepped inside, taking in everything. Deep within the confines of a medieval castle, he was standing in the middle of a Goa’uld laboratory. “Where did this come from?” Daniel asked several minutes later, his eyes coming to rest on the table in the middle of the room. His eyes settling on the dark reddish-brown stains on the top.

“Everything you see had been left behind centuries ago. Morgana discovered this room and claimed it for her own.”

Daniel stepped over to the table, resting his hands lightly on its surface, avoiding the stains. “I don’t recognize this device.”

“According to Morgana, it was able to revive a person from the dead. This is one of two such devices that were left behind. This one, however, she altered to better serve her purposes.” Egan had moved around the opposite side of the table, looking Daniel in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Daniel’s eyes were unreadable. He paused, but eventually nodded his head. “Yes.”

“Please place your arm flat against the top of the table and I’ll show you how Morgana changed this device.” Daniel complied and Egan flipped a switch. The surface of the table trembled for a few seconds before erupting, covering Daniel’s arm. In the blinking of an eye, the table settled down once again and Daniel’s arm was securely fastened to the table at the wrist and elbow.

Daniel glanced up, his eyes wide. “What did she do to the sarcophagus?”

Egan flipped another switch and Daniel’s arm was released just as quickly. “I do not know, but the Kyredians have the ability to change more than just people, as you have just discovered. Morgana had the ability to work with metals and various technologies, tinkering with them until it suited her purposes. This lab is filled with her creations.”

“Egan, this may sound sick, but would it be possible to take a closer look at this stuff once we get back? We could really learn a lot from it. It may help us in our fight against the Goa’uld.”

“You may have it if you desire. We have no need for it,” Egan said simply, as Daniel made a quick circuit through the room, touching several items, entranced by the technology. Several minutes passed before Egan spoke again. “From these rooms, your friend made his stand. He was the only warrior Morgana could not break. He would not give in. Instead, he fought. With every breath and every ounce of strength, he fought, protecting you with his life.”

Daniel’s words were quiet, barely loud enough to carry across the room. “That’s what he does best.”

“Daniel Jackson?”

“I’m sorry, Egan,” Daniel said, turning away from the wall to face Egan. His voice, louder now, was tinged with regret. “That was Jack’s way. That’s what he always did best. He was always protecting us—even protecting us from our own best intentions.”

“There is something more,” Egan said, stepping closer, gazing down at Daniel who refused to meet his gaze.

“Yes, there is,” Daniel said finally, sighing deeply.

“Might it have something to do with the black aura surrounding your friend?”

Daniel’s head came up, his eyes narrowed at Egan. “What aura?”

“Some of our people have always been free of Morgana’s influence. Hywel is one such person. His ancestors included one of the Kyredians. Because of his grand-grandfather, Hywel, on occasion, has the ability to view auras. When you arrived, O’Neill’s aura was dark—the darkest Hywel had ever witnessed. There was something on the inside, something wrong, was there not?”

Daniel swallowed trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. “Something, yes, was wrong. He’d been acting strangely for the past week or so. Are you trying to say that there was something physically wrong with him?”

“No, not physically, of this Hywel was certain. His soul was greatly troubled,” Egan paused, tilting his head to look closely at Daniel. When Egan spoke again, his words came slowly, shaded with emotion. “As a great warrior and a leader of your people, could he have been plagued by self-doubt and a faltering trust in himself? Perhaps it involved those with whom he worked.”

“What does he have to worry about? He’s the best of the best. We trust him implicitly. We trust him with our lives.”

“Are you sure?”

Daniel stopped to really look at Egan. The man was calm and deadly serious. “Of course I’m sure,” Daniel said, lacking the conviction he had had only a few moments ago. His mind slowly drifted back, thinking of all the times as of late where he hadn’t—they hadn’t—listened to Jack’s advice, to his orders, but instead had openly objected, even choosing a different path. Flashes of memories brushed through his mind: their dealings with the K’Tau; the situation with the Enkarans and the Gad-Meer; Alar and the rest of the Eurondan population; the incident with the Replicators and Thor’s ship; the crystal skull on P7X-377; and of course, Jack’s undercover mission involving the rogue NID organization. Things really hadn’t been going very smoothly lately.

“Something was weighing heavily on O’Neill’s mind the day he arrived here. Perhaps he knew that this was a turning point in his life. Perhaps O’Neill knew that his decision now would have profound ramifications for him and the rest of his life.” Egan stepped over to the door, hesitating for a moment before he stepped through. “Think of this, Daniel Jackson. Although you study the cultures and peoples you meet, do you ever consider that some of them may have been put in their place for a reason? Do you think it to be a coincidence that O’Neill met Morgana at this point in time? Perhaps there is something more going on than meets the eye. Perhaps Morgana is the whetting stone which sharpens O’Neill once again.”

Egan’s final words echoed in Daniel’s head for a long time after he departed, leaving Daniel slumped against the table in the middle of the Goa’uld laboratory, alone except for his troubled thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam was nearly packed by the time Daniel walked in the door, his eyes distant, his shoulders slouched and rounded.

“Daniel,” Sam asked, taking in his haggard appearance with one glance. “Are you okay?”

Daniel looked up, pulling himself forcefully from wherever he had been moments before. “Yeah,” he said with a weary smile, trying to reassure her. “I’ll be okay once we get Jack back.”

Sam returned his smile with understanding. “I know what you mean. Are you about ready to move out?”

“Sure. I just have to throw a few things in my pack,” Daniel headed to his room, but turned back to face Sam. “Did Hywel bring back my cloak?”

Sam nodded and gestured with her hand. “Yeah. It’s on your bed.” She paused, looking at him carefully. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah. Just have a lot on my mind.”

A few minutes later, Daniel emerged from his room, his pack slung over his shoulder and his cloak in his hands. Her father had packed earlier and had headed downstairs with Teal’c to take one last look at the plans and maps before they rolled them up and packed them in one of the bags.

Sam smiled, trying to lighten the dark mood that had apparently settled over her friend. “Well, we’re off to see the wizard.”

Daniel’s head came up sharply, his eyes squinting across the distance to where she stood. Even from across the room, Sam could see the tension in Daniel’s shoulders and in the lines of his face. “Daniel, where did you go this morning?” She asked, her tone quiet and gentle as she stepped closer, laying her hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort and support.

“I needed to think, to get some perspective,” Daniel said, his voice solemn. “I walked to the garden and to the altar and right then I knew exactly what had happened, why Jack did what he did.”

“What do you mean?” Her blue eyes darkened in distress.

“The altar was stained blood red, Sam,” Daniel said, finally lifting his head to look at her. His eyes screamed out to her as if Daniel himself had uttered a plaintive cry. “They perform ritual human sacrifices here, Sam. They use little children.”

Sam’s hand flew to her opened mouth. “Oh God, Daniel. That’s horrible.”

“Jack would never have let that happen as long as he drew breath.”

“He traded his life for the life of a child,” Sam said, her voice fully aware.

Daniel nodded. “He gave of himself willingly to save that child and to save us,” he said quietly. “Now we just have to rescue him from his own best intentions—just as he’s done for us countless times before.”

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Sam asked, shouldering her pack. “Let’s move.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack O’Neill took a deep breath, enjoying the view from the rooms on the upper level of the palace. Overlooking the main part of town and out over the harbor, Ugarit was dreamlike, especially early in the morning when the mists hovered low, close to the ground, coating everything with an ethereal quality.

He felt relaxed and at peace with himself and the world. There was no longer a need—or desire—to fight the Goa’uld or the Replicators or anything else. Here at Morgana’s side, there was peace. There was a stability that he hadn’t had in a long time.

He had taken to getting up early, much earlier than Morgana, to walk around the palace and its grounds. This morning, his third here on Lel, he nodded briefly to Eavan, who was standing guard as he left the royal apartments, strolling along the wide open hallways.

His long robes shifted easily with his movements and his sandal-clad feet welcomed the morning chill. His hands held loosely behind him, in the small of his back, he walked. It was these times alone that he truly enjoyed the most. It gave him the time to ground himself in the day, in what was to come, without distraction. While Morgana was very understanding of his private nature, he still needed this time to himself.

This morning he stopped alongside one of the large fountains that continually circulated water high into the air to come cascading down onto the various stone statues below. He dipped his fingers in the cool water, dragging his hand, adding his own splashes and designs to the fountain’s pool.

There was already activity at the dock this morning, the calm inviting the sailors to cast off early, heading for deeper waters. Soon the winter storms would be upon them, making any deep-sea fishing difficult at best.

A ship was due in port from Acco this morning, bringing some precious metals as well as various fabrics and foodstuffs. Jack planned to visit to the docks as soon as the ship arrived, giving him time to speak with the ship’s captain about the state of trade. Morgana preferred if he didn’t go out and talk to the people. She claimed it was beneath him, that they should come to him. But, in the long run, she humored him.

They were his people. He wanted to know them, and then in turn, it would give them the opportunity to learn about him.

When he walked through the city, Morgana was adamant that guards accompany him, and that was a fight he stood no chance of winning. They settled for one guard, generally Eavan.

Jack was pleased, though, that Morgana finally permitted him to arm himself. Instead of the broad swords the Meath castle guards preferred carrying, Jack had settled for one of the Ugarit swords—long and slender with the same ethereal quality that was reflected in the early morning hours.

The sword fit him well, even though he had only received it last night as a gift from the Ugarit master craftsman. Today, he would practice with it, if Morgana permitted him the time.

Standing quietly among the trees, he heard footfalls approaching him long before the visitor spoke. “Lady Morgana requests your presence for breakfast, my Lord.”

Jack took one last deep breath before turning to Adair with a smile. “Very well. Take me to Morgana. We mustn’t keep the lady waiting.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It took nearly three hours to reach the spot Teal’c had indicated on the map. While it was easier to use the FRED to carry most of their equipment, it still took time—more time than they had originally anticipated. The paths on the eastern edge were overgrown and not maintained making the journey difficult.

As soon as they had stepped through the gate onto Lel, they were immediately on guard. The eight members of the team were cautious and moved quickly to get out of sight. Tucking their heavier winter clothes and cloaks on FRED and into various packs, they moved steadily, most in shirtsleeves and tunics.

Upon reaching the designated spot for their camp, Teal’c and Egan made a quick circuit of the area, blending into the woodlands with ease. Several tension-filled minutes passed before Teal’c and Egan emerged once again. Teal’c nodded once to Sam, who smiled in relief. The site was clear and looked good. It was time to dig in and set up camp. They had a lot of work to do in a short period of time. She wanted to have someone checking out the city by nightfall—most likely Daniel and Egan. They seemed to work well together and she was sure Egan would be able to protect Daniel in case there was a problem.

The tents went up quickly and the gear was spread out among the group. Everyone had their jobs and Sam was pleased at how well the team melded together. It was peculiar to see her father working side-by-side with a huge muscular Ildanachian. Although Jacob Carter was by no means a petite man, he was dwarfed when he stood beside any of the castle guards. Corcoran, in particular, stood a head taller than Egan, his reddish hair and complexion contrasting sharply with the dark countenances of the other men.

“Sam,” Daniel called quietly, approaching Sam with a pair of binoculars in hand. “I think we’re going to need to get a change of clothes before we enter the city.”

“Why?” she asked, pausing in the unpacking of her bag.

“Well, for one thing, as if you hadn’t already noticed, the weather’s a little different here than it was in Meath. But, from the looks of things,” Daniel said, holding up the binoculars, “the people I can see seem to be dressed quite differently. Very light, flowing clothing. Long robes, primarily. Mostly light colors as well.”

“Okay, Daniel. What do you suggest?”

“See, that’s where I’m a little uncomfortable,” Daniel admitted, looking sheepish.

“Feeling bad about a little shop lifting, Daniel?” Sam teased, catching Teal’c’s eye over his shoulder. She gestured for Teal’c to join them. “Teal’c, Daniel and Egan are going to need some clothing for tonight’s expedition. Think you can round up something for them?”

Teal’c nodded solemnly. “I can endeavor to locate some appropriate garments, Major Carter. The outer limits of the city are not far. I shall return shortly.” Seconds later, Teal’c had vanished into the forest.

“Sammy, where’s Teal’c going?” Jacob asked, approaching with a puzzled expression on his face. “I didn’t think we were supposed to go venturing out until nightfall.”

“Daniel and Egan need a change of clothes,” Sam said. “Teal’c offered to obtain some for us.”

“Oh,” Jacob said, turning back to look at the camp and the furious activity. The three warriors Egan had brought—Quillan, Corcoran, and Afton—were very efficient and flexible. They had managed to figure out most of the items the SG team had brought along, including the operation of the FRED, much to Daniel’s amusement.

“Come on, Daniel,” Sam said, moving back to her pack. “Let’s finish setting up camp. I want to scout out the area before it gets dark.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner that night was warmed rations, which no one really enjoyed. Sam and Jacob had gotten the chance to take a brief tour around the immediate vicinity, looking for a water source and any signs that this was a regular route for patrols. The water was only a stone’s throw from the camp, which pleased Sam. Her father’s maps, so far, had been correct.

Right now, Daniel and Egan were gearing up, dressing in some of the clothing Teal’c managed to pilfer from several shops and homes. He had brought a variety of garments, many more than they needed for that night. Daniel and Egan planned to purchase some other clothing tonight that they would be able to use when they finally entered the city to bring Jack home. If everything went well, that would be two days from now.

Sam approached quietly as Daniel’s hands nervously settled the long outer garment over his shoulders. It flowed gracefully, falling nearly to touch the ground. Teal’c had even managed to procure two pairs of sandals which fit relatively well. They’d be able to get by with them.

“Are you about ready?” Sam asked, her voice quiet.

“Yeah, Sam,” Daniel said, glancing up and offering Sam a nervous smile. “I don’t know why I’m so jittery tonight. It’s not like I never get the chance to meet new people.”

“Maybe you need to get out more, Daniel,” Sam smiled, the flickering light of the fire catching her hair, giving her a dreamlike quality. “The Colonel’s always complaining that we don’t have a social life.”

“Yeah, I know,” Daniel said, falling silent as thoughts turned over in his head. He continued a few beats later, his voice several tones lower. “Sam, do you realize that things have been...different between all of us lately?”

“Different? What do you mean?” Sam looked puzzled, her eyebrows drawing together. She turned a little, the shadows darkening her face.

“Have you realized how many times we’ve gone and done things without ever thinking about what Jack had to say?”

“I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Daniel,” Sam said slowly, hesitatingly. Her eyes, though, told another story.

“When was the last time we included him on our decisions? When was the last time we really trusted him to know what do to? When was the last time we told him or showed him that we trusted in him?”

“Since when do we have to ask for his advice? He knows what has to be done, just as we do. He makes the final decision, not us, Daniel.”

“Sam, just think about this. How many times have we openly disagreed with one of his decisions? How many times do you think Jack just sits on the sidelines watching us as we study something or other?”

Sam shook her head. “Daniel, that’s his job.”

“No, it’s not,” Daniel said, his words hissing through his clenched mouth. He glanced around, checking to see who was looking at them, who was listening. It was difficult in the half-light of the fire to be able to tell. They had to keep it low, however, lest they reveal their presence prematurely. “He’s not just an overgrownbabysitter, although lately, it might seem as if he was. I think we’ve really been taking him for granted.”

“Daniel, Colonel O’Neill is just about the last person anyone takes for granted.”

“Sam, just consider the possibility. Think back to some of the missions lately. Look at it from his perspective.” Daniel shrugged, spotting Egan walking toward them dressed and ready to go. He looked strange and out of place. Daniel was so used to seeing him in royal robes in deep, rich colors. The light flowing robes they now wore even changed the way his face reflected the light, making it brighter, less foreboding. The sword at his hip, partially hidden by the robes, looked clumsy next to the grace of the garments themselves.

“Daniel, are you prepared?” Egan asked, startling Sam, making her turn quickly to face him. Daniel smiled to himself. If he hadn’t watched Egan approach, he wouldn’t have heard him either.

“Yes. I think I’m ready. How far did Teal’c say it was to the city?” Daniel said, stepping around Sam to Egan’s side.

“I believe he said it was a thirty minute hike to the city,” Egan said.

“Daniel, Egan, good luck and be careful. We don’t want to reveal our presence here just yet,” Sam said, glancing between the two men.

Egan bowed his head toward her. “Yes, my Lady. We shall endeavor to be prudent and cautious this night.”

“We’ll be careful, mom. Don’t worry.”

“I always worry, Daniel. Always.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“When was the last time we told him or showed him that we trusted in him?” As Sam watched Daniel and Egan blend into the night, Daniel’s words continued to spin through her mind.

She was troubled by what Daniel had said, at what he had implied. In some ways, she was indignant, offended even. How dare he think that she didn’t appreciate the Colonel, how dare he even suggest such a thing.

Jack O’Neill was one person she would never take for granted. He continued to surprise her. He continued to amaze her with his thoughtfulness, his generous nature, and his ability to see the situation at its simplest, especially when she tried to complicate everything, sometimes needlessly. While he wasn’t an openly giving man, emotionally speaking, his actions spoke louder than any words could have.

Jack O’Neill cared deeply for all of them. Of this, she was certain.

Just looking at his actions countless times, even a blind man could see what was obvious to them all. So, why did Daniel insist that they were taking Jack O’Neill for granted?

But why did Daniel’s words haunt her so?

When was the last time we told him or showed him that we trusted in him?

Right at that very moment, she couldn’t bring one to mind. She was determined, however, to tell him, to show him, the very first chance she got.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Ugarit was quiet at night; the majority of its citizens already home enjoying a warm meal with family and friends.

This night, Jack and Morgana walked hand-in-hand in the palace gardens, enjoying the solitude and the magical hours just after the sunset. As much as the early morning walks had become Jack’s habit, these evening walks, just after dinner, had become theirs. It gave them a chance to speak quietly, to exist merely as a man and a woman, just like many other couples walking through the gardens these nights.

They had passed quite a few couples this night, walking hand-in-hand as well, enjoying a special time. According to Paebel, the weather had been uncommonly warm ever since the storm.

Jack had called it Indian Summer. Summer’s last hurrah before winter settled in.

“So, what did Eavan have to report tonight?” Jack asked quietly, not wanting to spoil the magical quality of the night air.

“Things are going well. The people have taken to our rule quite easily. The palace guards have sworn allegiance to me, as has Paebel and Hurriya. We need no longer fear those closest to us,” Morgana spoke with a confident air.

“That is good to know, my love. I did not wish to worry every minute of the day for your safety when I was out of your sight,” Jack said, turning to her and offering a seductive smile. “Even though I know you can take care of yourself.”

“I know, my love,” Morgana said, drawing them to a stop, her hand cradling the side of his face. “As I have told you countless times, you worry needlessly.”

Jack smiled again, leaning in close, their lips barely brushing. His eyes lit from within with a hint of mischievousness thrown in for good measure. “I know, but it is my right.”

Morgana closed the gap between them, pulling Jack in close. They stood that way for some time, before parting, looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

Jack broke their gaze first, glancing around quickly before he turned back to her with a smile. “Think anyone saw that?”

“Perhaps,” Morgana answered, her eyes twinkling, catching the rays from the full moon.

“Maybe we should make sure,” Jack said, pulling her close once again.

This time, however, there was someone watching.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Egan, how much further?” Daniel asked, his feet dragging a little. The sandals didn’t give much support for his feet and Daniel had grown accustomed to his boots. This thirty-minute walk was starting to feel as if they had been walking for thirty hours.

“We are already passing though the outskirts of town, Daniel. We’ve passed several farms already.” Egan turned to look at Daniel, an amused expression on his face. “Come, let me find you a pub and we can get a drink. I’m sure that will help your state of mind.”

“I’m sure it would,” Daniel answered, his mouth forming a wry grin. “But, I’m not sure that would be such a good idea. We’re here to get information, not go on a drinking spree.”

“Where else do you get information? A pub would be the perfect opportunity. When drink and men mingle, many words are often spoken—many of which should never see the light of day.”

Daniel had to agree with him. Alcohol did usually loosen the tongue. God knows, though, how much of the local booze he’d be able to drink before he passed out. According to Jack, he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. One usually put him over the top. This would be an interesting night.

The buildings around them were simply constructed, with flat roofs reminding Daniel of some of the ancient cities in Biblical times. During the summer, the flat roofs provided a place where people could gather, up high enough to enjoy the breeze and cool off somewhat from the temperatures of the day. The area, though, was quite fertile, from what Daniel could see, which meant that there had to be a considerable amount of rainfall in the region. Rainfall and flat roofs never went well together as far as he was concerned. The whole matter of proper drainage was always a problem. Apparently, they had gotten something right with this design.

The farms were slowly changing to a more metropolitan feel. The homes and businesses closer together. More people walking through the streets. They were finally entering the city.

“So, where to?” Daniel asked with a soft voice, glancing around. They were at a crossroads of sorts. The street they were traveling on branched out into three streets, each heading in a different direction.

Egan looked carefully as far as he could see in the quickly fading light. The moon was rising—a full moon—which would prove helpful on their return trip. He pointed confidently to one of the streets. “I believe we wish to go this way.”

“Okay,” Daniel said, stepping alongside the older man. “Lead on.”

They walked several minutes more before a large building appeared on their right, with gardens all around. Apparently, they had managed to find their way to the palace, right in the center of town.

“Wow,” Daniel said his eyes wide, as he gazed upon the beautiful building. There was no fence around the outside; instead the garden seemed to invite them in, providing a haven of green and beauty amidst the business districts of the inner city.

They walked slowly, taking in the sights, the atmosphere, and the people. Several times they passed various couples walking close, talking quietly. Daniel stopped suddenly, pulling Egan with him into the brush along the side of the path.

“Daniel,” Egan hissed, ”what are you doing? You are drawing unnecessary attention to us.”

“Shush, Egan. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Daniel said creeping forward, staying parallel to the path they had been on only minutes before. Soon enough, Daniel stopped and peered through the foliage, uttering a simple curse. “Damn.”

“What is it?” Egan asked, his voice hushed.

“I thought I recognized the man, but I wasn’t sure. I needed to get a better look,” Daniel said, dropping down to sit in the dirt, his expression gloomy. “I was hoping I wouldn’t be right.”

“What is it?” Egan hissed.

“That was Jack and Morgana.”

“What?” Egan exclaimed, nearly coming to his feet and lurching out onto the path, his sword held high. Daniel gently restrained him before he crashed through. “Egan, now is not the time. They’re here. That’s what we needed to know. Now, we need to find someone we can talk to. Do you think we can get into the palace without being seen?”

“Of course,” Egan said, indignant at being second-guessed.

“Good. Let’s move. It looks like Jack and Morgana will be outside for a while. Who should we be looking for?”

“Riordan. We need to find Riordan.”

“Can we trust him?”

“Of course. He’s a friend.”

”Egan,” Daniel said his eyes hardening. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. He is a friend of Caedmon’s as well. Riordan can be trusted.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” Daniel said, climbing to his feet and dusting himself off. Egan stopped him before they stepped out onto the path.

“Daniel, what did you see that upset you so much?”

Daniel hesitated and then let out a long breath. “It seems as if Caedmon was correct in his assessment of the situation. It appears that Jack and Morgana have become...intimate.” Daniel spoke the word with disgust in his tone.

“Then the situation is more dire than we originally believed.”

Daniel’s voice was grim. “Yes, I know. We might already be too late.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Getting into the palace proved to be a little more difficult than they had originally anticipated. Various sentries guarded all the doors of the palace and the windows—well, those were only accessible if you were a close relative to a spider. That description didn’t apply to either of them, but Daniel was sure that Egan was willing to try.

Daniel and Egan hid in the shadows outside one of the smaller entranceways, watching, waiting for their chance. Minutes fled into hours. If they didn’t manage to get in, they were going to have to leave soon, sometime before the sun rose. The local pubs weren’t even a consideration at this point. They were quickly running out of time and Daniel did not want to face Sam if he had no information to provide. She was counting on them to get the job done. They had to find a way.

Somehow they needed to speak with Riordan. It wasn’t as if they could go up to the door, knock, and ask for the man. That would ruin their surprise. Besides, he was really the only one that they could trust.

There had been no activity for quite some time, so Daniel had settled back against a tree, letting Egan keep watch. Besides, Egan was the one who knew who he was looking for. As soon as Daniel saw Egan stiffen, he knew something had happened.

“Egan,” Daniel whispered. “What’s wrong?”

“Eavan and Riordan just stepped outside, walking toward the docks. They were deep in discussion.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” Egan said, his shoulders slumping a little. “I had...hoped that we would be able to speak to Riordan. But now—“

“Hey, hold on a minute. Now I know I don’t generally have the title of Mr. Positive, but we still have a chance here.” Daniel paused, his forehead furrowed in thought. “Do you think you can follow them, discreetly?”

“Of course,” Egan said, straightening his back, pride coming into his voice. “I am one of the greatest trackers Meath has ever seen.”

“Great, good,” Daniel said absently, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “Let’s follow them, at a distance, very discreet-like. Maybe we will get an opportunity later. Besides, we won’t know until we try.”

Egan sighed quietly, but nodded his agreement. “Follow me, but stay low. I will try to keep us under the cover of darkness. However, because of our robes and the full moon, it may be difficult.”

Daniel glanced down, realizing for the first time how much the light color of their robes stood out in the darkness—especially due to the light of the moon. On the road it would have been suspicious for them to be wearing fatigues, but here, their dark clothing would have come in handy.

They weaved their way through the palace grounds, from tree to tree as best they could, detouring when they had to, trying to keep Eavan and Riordan in sight.

Finally, after nearly thirty minutes of cat-and-mouse, Eavan turned on his heel, retreating back the way he had come, leaving Riordan alone, standing on the dock.

This was way too easy, Daniel thought, looking at Egan. Apparently, Egan had a similar feeling.

“Why do I feel like this is a set up?”

“Set up?” Egan asked, his eyebrow raised in puzzlement.

Daniel waved his hand. “Never mind, Egan, it’s just a figure of speech. It means that this seems too easy, like a trap.”

Egan nodded and settled down to wait. When nothing happened after several minutes, Egan looked expectantly at Daniel, silently asking for his opinion.

Daniel shrugged. “It’s up to you,” Daniel whispered.

“Well, I refuse to stay hidden in the shadows any longer. This is no place for a warrior,” Egan said, rising to his feet. Daniel, however, decided to stay where he was. Caution was the better part of valor, at least in this case.

Riordan had settled himself on a bench overlooking the river. The full moon glinted off the flowing waters, causing the light to flicker. Egan silently slid in next to Riordan.

“Good evening, Riordan,” Egan said simply, making Riordan jump nearly out of his skin.

“Good god, Lord Egan. You nearly caused me quite a fright.” Riordan had turned to Egan when he spoke; his expression slowly changing to one of puzzlement when he realized who it was sitting beside him. “My lord, why are you here?”

“Riordan, we must speak in private. There is much afoot.”

“Indeed there is, my lord,” Riordan nodded, his eyes solemn. “Morgana plans on raising an army and conquering this entire world. It is madness, I tell you.”

“What of O’Neill? Where does he stand in regards to her plans?”

“He is smitten with her,” Riordan said, disgust dripping from his voice. “He is worse than Lord Kentigern, no offense to you, of course.”

“None taken. Riordan, are you expected anywhere this night?”

“No. I am not due to be back guarding the royal apartments until tomorrow afternoon. Why?”

“Will you walk with me?” Egan asked, rising to his feet. “We have much to discuss.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Early in the morning hours, somewhere around three, Sam heard something coming through the forest. She had relieved Teal’c a few hours ago and was soon going to wake Quillan for his watch.

Daniel and Egan should had been back sometimes during Teal’c watch, but there had been no sign of them. Sam was getting worried.

When she finally heard footfalls in the forest, she prayed it was Daniel and Egan, but planned for the worst. Rising silently, she touched Teal’c’s shoulder gently, waking him from his kel-no-reem. “Someone’s coming,” she said quietly, before moving on to wake her father and the others. They couldn’t be careful enough.

Sam slid behind one of the large trees and hefted her P90. Her right hand reached down to make sure her zat was still in the holster fastened to her leg.

As soon as Egan and the rest of the party stepped into view, all six members of the team surrounded them. Sam recognized Daniel immediately. He’d been deep in conversation with the third person.

“All clear?” Sam asked, locking eyes with Daniel.

“Yeah. Sorry we’re late. We got a little sidetracked.” Daniel apologized. Sam could tell he wasn’t really sorry just from the look in his eyes. She also noticed the dark circles that had settled there. None of them were getting enough sleep lately, that much was certain.

Sam glanced at Daniel’s friend, with questions in her eyes. He was quick to pick up on what she was trying to say. “Oh, Sam. This is Riordan. Riordan, this is Sam Carter, Teal’c, and Jacob Carter. I think you know everyone else.” Daniel glanced around, pointing to each person as he introduced everyone. He turned back to Sam. “Do you think you could ask everyone to put down all their pointy objects? I really don’t feel like getting skewered.”

“Sure,” Sam said, signaling everyone to stand down as she lowered her own weapon. “So, Daniel. What happened? We expected you back hours ago.”

“Like I said,” Daniel said, as his body collapsed onto a log in front of his tent, “we got a little sidetracked. Saw something interesting, though,” he said, his eyes widening a little.

“What?” Sam asked as she sat down within easy earshot. Most everyone else also settled down, reclining in various positions throughout the clearing. They might as well hear it all now, she thought. It concerned everyone.

“Well, Jack and Morgana are here and it seems to be that they’ve moved up in the world. They have a palace now,” Daniel said, his voice filled with sarcasm.

“We figured out that much ourselves,” Sam said, wishing Daniel would get to the point.

“Yeah, but what we didn’t figure was Jack. It looks like he’s gone completely dark side on us.” Daniel shifted on the ground, seemingly uncomfortable with his report. “And it seems as if Jack’s going by a new name, too, Lord Mot.”

“Well, we thought that might be a possibility,” Jacob said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “It’s better we know that now than later. That also means that we can’t expect to rely on his help when this gets started.”

“I know,” Daniel said, nodding his head, his tone grim. “We managed to get Riordan’s attention and we’ve been chatting the whole way back here.”

“So what’s the situation in the palace? Can we get in?”

“That’s part of the problem,” Daniel said, his expression bleak. “It seems that Morgana is a little paranoid about her whole new role as the Goddess Athtar and she had the palace guard pledge their allegiance to her. In addition, she has guards posted around the clock. It won’t be easy.”

“Is there another way in? Maybe there’s a secret passageway or something? Surely a Goa’uld won’t leave himself cut off from the gate,” Sam said, glancing back and forth between Egan, Riordan, and Daniel.

“Well, if there is one, it’s still a secret,” Daniel said grimly. “And basically everyone in the palace is under Morgana’s thumb.”

Riordan raised his head abruptly. “Maybe Ibiranu can help.”

“Who?” Daniel and Sam asked in unison.

“Ibiranu was the steward Lord Yam left in place when he departed months ago. We met Ibiranu when we first got here, but Morgana removed him from the palace. He might be willing to help you.”

“Do you know where he is?” Sam asked, a glimmer of hope lighting her eyes.

“I think so. He’s moved out into the outskirts of town, away from everyone. He’s become quite the laughingstock,” Riordan said.

“Great,” Sam said, the first genuine smile coming to her lips in a long time. “Let’s give Ibiranu an early morning visit. But right now, I think we should all get some sleep. We’re going to have a busy day tomorrow.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

A party of nine tromping through the streets would be a little conspicuous, so Sam decided to send Egan and Riordan to speak with Ibiranu, which meant that the rest of them had to wait, again.

No one liked waiting—especially Daniel.

Teal’c always appeared to be outwardly calm, cool, and collected, but today, Daniel could see that the waiting was taking its toll on Teal’c as well. Thankfully, Daniel had managed to get several hours of sleep when he finally stopped moving long enough to let himself fall asleep. By the time he woke, Egan and Riordan had already been gone for several hours.

Wandering back from the small stream, he caught Sam’s attention and walked slowly to her, trying unsuccessfully to hide a huge yawn.

Sam grinned, tossing him a granola bar, which he barely caught, fumbling with the foil-wrapped package. He threw her an annoyed look but brightened immediately when he spotted her holding a steaming cup of coffee.

“Please tell me that’s for me,” Daniel said, scurrying over to where Sam was perched on the edge of a log. She’d been cleaning her weapon, its parts spread out before her on a blanket.

“It sure is,” Sam said, handing him the beverage. She tried to hide her grin as she watched his eyes close as he took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of coffee. “I got it ready when I finally saw you stumble out of your tent.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Daniel said, sipping the drink reverently. “This is great.” Daniel glanced around, trying to get his bearings. Teal’c and Quillan were no where to be seen, but Jacob, Corcoran, and Afton were chatting amicably on the far side of the camp.

“I’m glad, Daniel,” Sam said, following his gaze.

“Sam,” Daniel asked after several minutes passed, “what do you think will happen once we get Jack back?”

Sam was unusually quiet. When she didn’t answer, Daniel turned to her, concerned. “Sam?”

Sam turned to look at Daniel, her eyes uncertain. “I don’t know, Daniel. I guess that’s up to him.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Daniel asked, his voice solemn.

“I hope so, Daniel. I hope so,” Sam whispered, her head dropping down, her eyes fixed on her hands. After a few beats, she looked up again. “This is our fault, isn’t it?”

“What?” Daniel asked, confused as to where Sam was going. While it was phrased as a question, he nearly thought she really meant to say it as a statement.

“This whole thing,” Sam said, waving her arm to encompass everything. “We’re here because something happened to us, because we were compromised. He must hate us for what we did.”

Her last sentence was nearly swallowed by the air. “Sam, Jack’s not like that. He wouldn’t hate us.”

“Look at what happened to him and Colonel Cromwell. They didn’t speak for years after that whole mission where the Colonel was left behind. How could you say that he won’t blame us?”

“Jack’s changed. He’s a different man now,” Daniel argued, although deep down, he shared the same worry. That was just about the worst thing that could happen, for him to lose Jack’s friendship, the camaraderie they enjoyed. Jack’s death would be bad, horrible really, but somehow, that would be worse.

“Yes, Daniel he’s changed, but I don’t think he’s changed that much. We left him behind. How can he forgive us for leaving him in Morgana’s hands? I don’t see how that’s possible.” Her words were clipped and bitter.

“Sam, he was doing his job. He was doing what he does best, protecting his team.”

“Daniel,” Sam started, her voice rising in volume, but was cut off by her father’s calm tones.

“Sam, I think we need to concentrate on the here and now,” Jacob said, bending down, eyeing Daniel and Sam equally. “Egan and Riordan just returned and they have good news.”

Sam glanced up, immediately spotting the two men in question, along with Teal’c and Quillan, sitting quietly at the opposite end of the camp. “When did they get here?”

“A few minutes ago, but they didn’t want to disturb you, especially since you and Daniel were in deep discussion. I, though, have none of those hang ups.” Jacob grinned thinly, patting his daughter’s knee affectionately. “Come on, put your weapon back together. We have some planning to do.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel was nervous. His stomach, while normally ironclad and able to take pots of coffee without the need of antacids, was in knots. He was crouched down in the shadows with Sam while the others were scattered throughout the clearing.

Teal’c, Corcoran, and Egan were trying to force the door to an ancient entrance to the palace. Thankfully, they were out in the middle of nowhere and the noise didn’t carry too far.

Riordan had been right in thinking that Ibiranu would be willing to help them get into the palace. Once they explained what they were planning, he was eager to help, even offering to join them himself. They had declined his offer. In reality, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Once Morgana and Jack were captured, he could return to the throne as steward until Lord Yam arrived once again.

While Sam and Jacob had other plans in mind for him, they didn’t want to tell him now. They could wait for when another SG team visited, probably in a week or so to pick up the remaining gear they’d left behind. Anything they couldn’t carry they’d left back at the campsite. The camping gear was not a priority although Daniel was disturbed that he had to leave his cloak in one of the FRED’s compartments. He was going to make sure someone came back and got it. He had grown quite attached to the garment, much to his surprise.

They were armed to the teeth with zats and guns and swords among them. But even with all of their planning—and with Riordan’s assistance on the inside—Daniel was worried. Actually, if he had time to think about it, he’d probably admit that he was scared. Scared that something would go wrong, that somehow they’d lose Jack and then end up under the thumb of Morgana.

Daniel sighed quietly, making Sam turn and shoot him a questioning look. He shook his head, trying to reassure her that he was okay. She was probably equally nervous, even though she had a stoic exterior. She didn’t need his personal demons in addition to her own.

According to the plan, this passageway would lead into the castle and into the royal chambers, bypassing the guard’s quarters. Apparently, there was a secret entrance somewhere in the main sitting room.

However, the door to the passageway was proving a little more difficult to enter than they had originally anticipated. Normally, this door would be opened from the inside, allowing those on the inside to escape, not the other way around.

They’d been working on the door for an hour now and it was closing in on nine o’clock. Once inside the passage, they still had at least a thirty-minute walk to the palace. What was lurking in the passage was anyone’s guess.

Finally, it looked as if they were getting somewhere. A small break could be seen, like the crack between elevator doors. Apparently, the doors were a Goa’uld creation—heavy, unwieldy, and thick. Grimacing with exertion, Teal’c and Quillan managed to pull the doors open an inch at a time.

Sam leapt to her feet, followed closely by Jacob, Afton, and Quillan. Daniel was the last one to get his feet under him.

The doors were now open about a foot, allowing the two men to get a better grip on the metal. Sam squeezed between them, much to Daniel’s dismay, turning her flashlight on, illuminating the passage. From what Daniel could see, it was clearly Goa’uld made, the beam of the flashlight reflecting brightly off the golden walls inside.

“Sam, what do you see?” Daniel asked, trying to crane his neck around Teal’c’s bulky form. With the door nearly completely open, Jacob and Quillan had also stepped inside, adding their flashlights to Sam’s.

“Not much, Daniel,” Sam replied, her voice bouncing off the hard surfaces inside the tunnel. She turned back, squinting out the door. “Teal’c, that should be good. Come on everyone, we have to get moving.”

Teal’c nodded slightly, his face showing the exertion of holding the door open. Afton and Daniel stepped through as Corcoran and Teal’c shifted their weight, placing them inside the tunnel with the others as they let the doors close slowly behind them cutting them off from the outside.

Once the doors closed solidly behind them, a chill ran up Daniel’s back, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. He had a bad feeling about this. He scooted up to where Sam had taken point, aiming her flashlight down the long, dark, dusty corridor.

“So, how long until we get to the palace?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said, glancing quickly at Daniel, her hand on her P90. “It should be about a thirty minute walk. I just hope Ibiranu didn’t tell anyone what we planned.”

“If you were so worried, why didn’t you just have him come along?” Daniel asked, his whispered voice carrying further than he wanted.

“Because, Daniel Jackson, Major Carter believes he can be of assistance to us when we once again return to Lel,” Teal’c said, his deep timbered voice echoing strangely. “Besides, this will be his only opportunity to regain what he has lost.”

Daniel sighed. “Yeah, I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.”

No one had a comment, so the group descended into silence, moving quickly through the underground passage toward the palace. As they got closer, the floor started slanting upwards until they reached a set of steep stairs. Sam stopped at the bottom, aiming her flashlight up, trying to see where they ended. It was hard to tell from this angle, but they looked as if they turned at the top. God knows how far up they’d have to climb.

“Well, I think this is it,” Sam said, turning back to face the group. “It might not be pretty once we get in there. Although Riordan is going to try to clear the rooms as best he can, we may have a pretty rough fight on our hands. Let’s try not to kill if we don’t have to. Most of these people are Morgana’s victims as well.”

When no one had anything else to add, Sam smiled fiercely at them, making eye contact with each of them. “Let’s get to work.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Daniel thought back to what transpired that night, he was surprised that more people weren’t injured or killed.

Making their way up the stairs, Teal’c and Corcoran took point. They didn’t know what kind of obstacle would be at the top. If the doors before were any indication, they might have trouble getting in, wasting their only chance at surprising the guards.

The stairs turned twice, leading up to a short hallway. Daniel figured they must somehow be behind the guards’ rooms, at least according to what Ibiranu had to say. They couldn’t hear anything though the walls and their footfalls seemed loud in the enclosed space. At every scrape and scratch, Daniel jerked his head around, paranoid that somehow someone would hear them. When no loud shouts were heard, he tried to calm his heart, running words over and over through his mind as a mantra as if his very thoughts could somehow set everything straight.

It would be all right.

They’d get Jack.

He’s going to be okay.

It’s going to be all right.

Jack was going to be all right.

Catching everyone’s eyes for the final time, Sam offered silent comfort and support. Everyone was ready. It was now or never.

On the count of three, Teal’c and Corcoran pushed and the doors gave way with little resistance, startling them and the small group in the main sitting room—which included Morgana and Jack.

Metal scraping against metal was heard throughout the room as swords were drawn. To Daniel, it looked as if there was a small army in the sitting room.

The Meath castle guards leapt out of the passageway, Egan, Corcoran, Afton, and Quillan immediately fencing and fighting with their brethren, their brothers in arms. This time instead of fighting side-by-side, they were fighting each other. Riordan joined in as well, leaping into the fray with his sword flying high.

Sam, Teal’c, Jacob, and Daniel zatted as many as they could, but they came fast. As soon as the fighting was heard, others started arriving, crashing in through the doors to come to the aid of their God and Goddess.

This wasn’t what they had planned.

Jack and Morgana had their swords held high and were slowly backing into the bedroom, prepared to hide in the safety of the room beyond. Egan and Daniel saw their movement and began working their way over to the retreating couple.

Hearing a short scream, Daniel glanced over just in time to see Afton fall, run through with a sword. Another gurgle sounded just to his left and Daniel just had enough time to sidestep another falling body, dead before he hit the ground.

At least it wasn’t one of ours, Daniel thought morbidly, trying to make his way through the crowd. It was hard enough to do this on a battlefield, but climbing over chairs and furniture was proving difficult. Jack’s insistence on hand-to-hand training was coming in handy. For those he couldn’t zat, Daniel was able to hold his own, allowing Teal’c the opportunity to take care of the rest.

Daniel had one mission: get to Jack O’Neill.

Daniel heard the fighting, the grunts of pain, the prematurely cut-off screams of agony, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the clang of swords, and the swears from participants when their opponents got too close for comfort.

Somehow, he managed to block them out.

Egan and Quillan had managed to reach the royal couple and were engaged in a fierce fight. Jack, while never proficient with a sword as far as Daniel was concerned, was gaining ground against both of his opponents, while Morgana hovered behind him, protected for the moment.

Jack’s eyes were hardened, cold, determined. Daniel had seen this stance, this expression, many times before, usually when Jack was protecting them from some Jaffa army led by a Goa’uld with visions of grandeur. This was the battle-scarred, killing machine Daniel never wanted to see.

As Daniel approached Jack he felt, rather than saw, Teal’c mirroring his own path through the destruction. Sam and Jacob had been sidetracked, protecting his and Teal’c’s lovely backsides.

Daniel nearly stopped in his tracks when Jack managed to decapitate Quillan, the body falling at Jack’s feet. Instead of the feelings of disgust such violence would engender within him, it just made Daniel angry. Angry at what Morgana had done to his friend, angry at what she had forced them to do. The waste of life that was going on was too horrible to comprehend.

Enraged, Daniel picked up a sword and charged his best friend.

They met, steel to steel, Jack’s flint-like brown eyes boring into Daniel’s coldly-determined blue ones. Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel could see that Egan had managed to sidestep Jack, moving onto Morgana.

Now they just had to get Jack and Morgana to come quietly.

Yeah, like that was happening.

Sam’s voice rose above the fray. “Daniel, we have to get out of here. They just keep coming.”

Daniel grunted as Jack managed to swipe the edge of his blade across Daniel’s middle, slicing open his shirt and leaving a thin line that quickly welled up with blood.

Daniel looked up, his eyes wide. Jack was moving in for the kill, taking advantage of Daniel’s inactivity and inattention. Daniel dived to the side, missing the killing blow by inches, but Jack continued to move, his actions graceful, purposeful, strong, and confident. Daniel wasn’t getting away easily.

As Jack swung his sword again, Teal’c appeared over Daniel, his own blade clashing with Jack’s, stopping the blow. As Teal’c pushed Jack back, he spoke, urging Daniel to action. “Daniel Jackson, you must do something before I am forced to injure O’Neill.”

“I know, Teal’c,” Daniel said, fumbling in his pocket for the sedative he had placed there earlier. They had decided that a quiet Jack O’Neill would be far easier to transport to the gate than one fighting all the way. Daniel had agreed.

In his haste to get the vial out, Daniel had to pull his attention away from the fight happening just before him. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Jack decided to send a kick his way, knocking the vial out of his hands to crash against the hard stone floor and sending Daniel several feet back, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

Teal’c was holding his own, but as Daniel could see, it wouldn’t be long until Teal’c was going to have to do something more than just block Jack’s attack.

“Daniel!” Sam cried his name again, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. He no longer had the sedative and from the looks of it, the rest of the team was not fairing well. Sam had several cuts, as did her father and Corcoran.

Suddenly, an unearthly scream filled the room nearly stopping everyone in their tracks. Daniel turned quickly, realizing that the scream had come from one of the figures in front of him.

Morgana was dying.

Egan had struck her, finally giving her the fatal blow that would be her downfall.

Or so they thought.

The scream hadn’t come from her.

It had come from Jack.

For as long as he lived, Daniel didn’t think he’d be able to get that sound out of his head. That howl of absolute anguish was nothing he had ever heard before in his life—and probably would never hear again—except in his dreams.

Daniel’s eyes widened as Jack took several large steps backwards, his sword drooping, the tip scraping the floor. Jack’s left hand came up, clutching at his chest. His breath starting to come in short shallow breaths, faster and faster.

What was happening?

Daniel didn’t understand, but in some strange, obscene way, Jack was somehow bonded to Morgana. It was just as Caedmon had said. Morgana was pulling Jack’s life force from him to repair the wound she had sustained. When Egan struck Morgana with what should have been a deathblow, it was as if he had struck Jack directly.

At that moment in time, Daniel knew what had to happen. Never before had he ever believed that he would utter the words, but in order to save his friend, he had to say them. He had to scream the words he knew that would end this.

“Egan, she’s killing Jack. You have to kill her. Kill her now!”

His mouth set in a thin, fine line, Egan swung his sword, the wide blade cutting through the air. It was almost as if it happened in slow motion, Egan’s sword making a sweeping arch, connecting solidly with Morgana, cutting through her neck with one thrust.

Her body stood for a moment before crumpling, falling in on itself, landing on the floor with a thud, her sword clattering to the floor to rest beside her.

The rest seemed to come in a blur.

As soon as Morgana’s body hit the floor, Jack came once again to life, this time with vengeance in his eyes. Daniel reached for his zat as Jack approached Teal’c, his sword held high, fire in his eyes.

“Teal’c,” Daniel yelled. “Watch out!”

Teal’c glanced at Jack and back at Daniel, his eyes widening as he saw what the archeologist intended to do. Teal’c managed to dive out of the way just as Jack attacked with a force Daniel had never seen him use before. When Jack couldn’t reach Teal’c he redirected his ire at an easier target: Daniel.

From his position sitting on the floor, Daniel had a clear shot, but he hesitated. How could things have gotten so bad? How could things have disintegrated so quickly? Could he live with himself if he had to shoot his friend? What if one shot didn’t do it?

“Daniel Jackson!” Teal’c’s cry brought him back to the present. Jack was almost upon him.

Daniel closed his eyes and fired.

A half-scream came from Jack’s mouth, the sword dropping with a clatter from his hands, his body following a few seconds later to lie still at Daniel’s feet.

Silence filled the air.

Daniel scrambled to turn his friend onto his back, checking for a pulse. His fumbling fingers found one a few seconds later. It was a little faster than he would have liked, but it was there.

Daniel glanced up, looking around the room at the carnage they had wrought.

Apparently, as soon as Morgana died, her control over the guards had immediately vanished—and the fighting had stopped.

“He’s alive,” Daniel said, his voice sounding loud in the silence of the room.

“Good. Come on, Daniel. We have to get him back to the SGC and to Doctor Fraiser,” Sam said, picking her way across the room, trying to avoid blood and bodies as much as she could. It was difficult.

“I will carry him, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said, rising regally to his feet from where he had thrown himself on the floor.

“Thanks, Teal’c,” Daniel said, offered Teal’c a smile of thanks.

Looking around, Daniel noticed Egan and Riordan in deep conversation. “Make sure that the body is burned,” Egan was saying. “I don’t want anything to remain. She has plagued our people for far too long.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Riordan said, bowing to Egan. He quickly turned, shouting orders that the other guards immediately jumped to perform.

Egan stepped over to the SG team, his face unreadable except for his eyes. There, Daniel saw triumph.

“It is done,” Egan said, looking at each of the team members in turn. “Shall we bring our wounded home?”

“Yes,” Sam said, nodding. “Thank you for all your help, Egan. I appreciate your assistance.”

“I, also, must offer my thanks to you,” Egan said, bowing to Sam.

“Will you be okay getting back to Ildanach?” Sam asked after a beat of silence.

“Riordan knows the way. I wish to see this SGC and meet this General Hammond of which you speak.”

Sam glanced at Daniel and Teal’c in surprise but answered Egan with a smile. “Sure. I think General Hammond would be interested in meeting our newest ally in person. Let’s move out and let these people do their jobs.”

Teal’c gently lifted O’Neill’s limp form from its resting-place on the cold floor, cradling him in his arms like he would a young child. Jack looked small at that moment, his face finding peace in his unconsciousness.

Sam cast a quick glance at Daniel, noticing the thin line of blood on his mid-section. “Daniel, are you all right? Do you need me to bandage that?”

“No, Sam. I’m fine,” Daniel said, glancing down. “Let’s get Jack home. We can worry about it once we get there.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. It’s been a long day and I just want to go home.”

Chapter Eleven

The one thing General George Hammond absolutely hated to do was wait. He did it every day, countless times. Even when things were hectic, he still waited. He waited to get reports from the people he trusted. He waited for the president to have the time to speak to him. He waited for straggling civilian team members to wander into mission briefings. He waited to see when the other shoe would drop when it came to the rogue NID team. He waited for the next attack from one Goa’uld system lord or another. He waited to see when Senator Kinsey would make his next move. He waited for the SG teams to come back through the gate, preferably unharmed. He waited for the inevitable arguments that erupted when Colonel O’Neill and Doctor Jackson disagreed about one point or another.

But, waiting for the gate to start turning was the worst—especially in the early morning hours when there was only a skeleton staff on duty. In the hours just before dawn, time seemed to slow. It was as if the air itself thickened—hampering movement and rational thinking. Sometimes, he was convinced that if he let go of his cup it would take hours to drop to the floor, its liquid cooling in the mug before it finally splattered over the military gray cement floor.

It was nearly three o’clock in the morning and he was standing in the darkened briefing room staring down at the huge monolith below him. The Stargate was silent now, but even as he stood there waiting, he willed it to start turning. He wanted to see SG1 return victorious, its missing member well and accounted for.

Unfortunately, Hammond didn’t think that that would be the case this time around.

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there, looking down, lost in his thoughts. He didn’t even remember the last time he had eaten properly or the last time he had had an uninterrupted night of sleep. Tonight, for some reason, it proved to be impossible for him to wind down, to relax his mind, to calm his wild thoughts. Tonight—or in the reality of time, this morning—something was going to happen. He could feel it in his bones. He could feel it from the crown of his bald head down to the tip of his pinky toe. Normally, he wasn’t one who put much faith in premonitions or feelings—weird or otherwise. He was more of a man who relied on facts and figures, tangible things. Things he could see or hear or wrap his fingers around. When it came to the Stargate program, he sometimes found it difficult because he had to rely on half-formed ideas and feelings, many times flying by the seat of his pants, trying to save the world with a half-baked idea and a roll of duct tape.

Hammond chuckled to himself, picturing Major Carter running into the control room holding a roll of duct tape high in the air proclaiming it to be the only thing that would save the mountain from certain destruction. As humorous as it seemed now, who knew but one day it might prove to be true.

If it were only that easy.

Hammond sighed, rubbing a hand across his weary face. He wasn’t too surprised to hear a single set of footfalls approach his office. Without turning, he could tell who it was. Lately, no one had been sleeping well.

“Doctor, I’m in here,” he called quietly, his voice carrying easily through the silent rooms.

The sound of approaching footsteps came closer until they finally stopped alongside him and he could see Doctor Fraiser’s reflection in the window. Her face was drawn and haggard, reflecting the same emotions and internal battles he had been waging.

“General,” Fraiser said in greeting, meeting his eyes in the glass reflection. “Can I ask what you’re doing up so late? I did recommend for you to get some sleep.”

Her tone was mildly scolding, but he didn’t mind. She meant well. “I could ask you the same question, Doctor,” he said, turning his head to offer her a weary smile, which she returned in kind.

A comfortable silence descended between them as they gazed out across the empty gateroom below. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this and probably wouldn’t be the last. When she spoke again, her tone was thoughtful. “Do you think they found him?”

“I hope so, Doctor. For all our sakes, I hope so.”

Fraiser nodded, the gesture echoing his solemn words that seem to hover in the air between them, as if they had a life of their own.

Several beats later, the inner track of the Stargate started spinning, the klaxon sounding unnaturally loud in the silence of the base, echoing strangely off the hard, concrete walls. Hammond and Fraiser raced down the single flight of metal stairs to the control room, their eyes wide, their pulse racing.

No one was due back.

“Incoming travelers,” the Stargate operator reported as soon as Hammond’s booted feet touched the control room floor.

“Close the iris,” Hammond barked coming up behind the operator, his attention split between the Stargate and the computer screens before him. Armed guards entered the gate room at a dead run, taking up defensive positions facing the now closed iris. If something got through the iris, what would armed soldiers really be able to do about it? Hammond considered the thought briefly before shaking his head to clear his mind. He was just proud to see that even, at three in the morning, everything worked like clockwork.

“Is anyone due back?” Fraiser asked, standing close, her body tense and her expression troubled.

“No, ma’am,” the operator replied, answering her question. “SG6 isn’t due back until noon.” He looked up quickly at the General and back down at the screen as if to confirm what he saw. “Sir, I’m getting an iris code. It’s SG1.”

“Open the iris,” Hammond ordered, rushing to the stairs and into the gateroom, his final orders thrown over his shoulders. “I want a full medical team in the gate room right now.”

Fraiser even didn’t wait to see if the operator fulfilled his orders. She was right on his heels as he made the final turn into the gateroom as the iris opened, the swirling blue and white of the open wormhole brightening the room immediately. Apparently, she felt the same thing he had—he needed to be in the gateroom right now.

Major Samantha Carter stepped through first, patches of dried blood and sweat clinging to her from head to toe. Her booted feet hit the ramp hard and she stepped far enough down the ramp to allow the others room to follow. Hammond took her dour expression and the broad sword—sword?—at her hip to be a bad sign. He didn’t have time to comprehend anything more before the vortex shimmered once again and another body, actually two people, were spit out.

Daniel Jackson stepped through, his hand on the elbow of another man, someone Hammond didn’t recognize. The man was tall and muscular and moved with a grace that belied his size. His hair, which should have hung down to his shoulders, was matted to his head by sweat and blood. What wasn’t pressed close to his head hung in a stringy, sweaty mess, perspiration still dripping from its ends. His long filthy cloak skimmed the floor and was torn in several places. His sword still bore the stains of recent fighting.

Jackson, Hammond noted, was moving with a slight limp and Hammond immediately spotted the red gash across his mid-section although Jackson tried to hide it, turning immediately to face the open wormhole, waiting, just as Carter was waiting.

Jacob Carter stepped through next, his light colored Tok’ra uniform covered in blood and dirt. As much as Jake tried to give him a neutral expression, George knew his friend too well. George could see the weariness and lethargy just below the surface. Jake stepped down alongside his daughter, turning his back to Hammond and the control room, his entire being focused on the wormhole before him.

Finally, Teal’c stepped through, carrying the limp form of Colonel O’Neill. For a few seconds before the gate closed with a snap-hiss, the bluish-white light of the open wormhole silhouetted Teal’c, giving him an extraordinary, unearthly halo. O’Neill, clothed in long, flowing, white robes, reflected the same bright light—too bright for such a somber occasion. The fluid robes draped strangely off the Jaffa’s muscular arms, contrasting harshly with his dark skin.

At first glance, things didn’t look good. Hammond didn’t think it possible, but as he got closer, edging slowly up the ramp to where Teal’c stood, things started looking even worse.

Colonel O’Neill—his second-in-command and his friend—was gaunt, dirty, and covered with blood; his hair was longer than Hammond had ever seen it and a salt-and-pepper beard covered his face. Even in unconsciousness, O’Neill’s face told a story of torture and abuse, of hard days spent alone, fighting an enemy whom he might not defeat.

“General Hammond, we have fulfilled our mission,” Teal’c said, his deep timbered voice carrying through the heavy air in the gateroom, shaking everyone from the tragic sight before them. “O’Neill is injured. I would recommend conveying him to the infirmary at once.”

Fraiser shoved past Hammond, moving quickly to her most needy patient—O’Neill.

She started firing off orders as soon as her eyes touched O’Neill’s drawn and emaciated face. Her hand immediately went to his neck; her fingers looking for the pulse everyone desperately wanted her to feel. When she looked up her eyes were grim, her voice as tight as the muscles on her shoulders and back. “I need to get him to the infirmary right away. Teal’c, can you bring him? I’d rather not wait for the stretcher. Can someone tell me what I should expect?”

No one objected as Fraiser gently but firmly took Teal’c by the arm and led him away. Teal’c’s boots and Fraiser’s heeled shoes clicked and clanked down the metal ramp. Everyone looked shell shocked, tired past the point of exhaustion. But in the depths of their eyes, Hammond saw relief. They had found O’Neill and had brought him home.

Now, they just had to fix what was broken.

Hammond just wondered if there was a way to fix a broken soul.

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Sam, can you tell me what happened?” Janet Fraiser asked again, trying to drag information out of her friend as they hurried along the corridor on level 21 to the infirmary. To her professional eye, they all looked like they were in shock—even General Hammond. He had allowed a complete stranger to accompany Daniel and the rest of SG1 to the infirmary without a second glance. To her, it showed his true state of mind and it just compounded her own bad feelings.

O’Neill did not look good.

“He was zatted about an hour ago and he hasn’t regained consciousness all the way to the Stargate,” Sam said, her voice breaking at the last word, her eyes firmly fixed on her clasped hands. “We...we tried to get here as quick as we could, but it was dark and it wasn’t easy trying to go over uneven terrain at night.”

“Sam, it’s okay,” Janet said, gently placing a hand on Sam’s arm, trying to calm her down. Right now she could only deal with one patient and Sam wasn’t it. “I know you did everything you could. Is there anything else I should know?”

Sam shook her head, her eyes filled with pain and worry. “No. I don’t know. We were too late, weren’t we? He looked so still on the way back to the gate, so peaceful. We were worried that he was already dead but we couldn’t stop. We had to get him here to you.”

“He’s still alive, for now,” Janet said, her hand instinctively going to feel O’Neill’s neck for what seemed like the hundredth time, immediately finding a pulse. It was weak and thready, but it was there. She didn’t like the sounds of his breathing. It was shallow, but at least it was regular. “You did the right thing in getting him back,” Janet said, finally tuning into the infirmary, directing Teal’c to place O’Neill on the nearest bed.

Her work was just beginning. She took a deep breath as two of her nurses—Anne Matthews and Marie Miller—started to efficiently strip O’Neill of his dirty gray robes, leaving him in something that passed as boxer shorts. They immediately started an IV running fluids to the obviously dehydrated Colonel. Her nurses were good—even better than she could ever wish for. Sometimes—make that most times—she was grateful for their level heads and quick reaction times—especially when dealing with alien viruses and various off-world injuries.

Even with a quick glance, Janet didn’t like the way O’Neill looked—he’d lost muscle and was much too gaunt, the skin stretched across his ribs, his body bearing a few new scars to add to the vast number already littering his skin.

Janet turned to glare at the audience that had followed her. “The party’s over,” she said, trying to usher them out the door. “Let’s give him some privacy and I need room to work. I can’t very well have either if you are all standing here gawking.”

“Doctor Fraiser,” Matthews said, her voice trembling slightly. “He’s coming around.”

Janet shoved her way past the nurses, ignoring the group that had refused to budge—the same group whose attention was firmly fixed on the drama playing out before them. “Colonel O’Neill,” she said, taking his right hand in hers, leaning over him as best she could. In times like this, she really wished she was taller—a few inches would help tremendously in her line of work. O’Neill’s eyes were flickering slightly, his brow creasing a little. Matthews was right. Colonel O’Neill was dragging himself back to consciousness.

“Colonel O’Neill? Can you hear me? Sir, if you can hear me I need you to squeeze my hand. Do you understand what I’m saying?” said Janet, her words becoming a familiar mantra. She glanced up, her eyes locking with Daniel’s across the room. Daniel was hugging himself, his arms crossed in front of him in typical Daniel-style. It was a gesture of comfort. He always did it when he was worried or uneasy.

Janet pulled her attention back to her patient. O’Neill’s eyelids were opening, revealing a pair of cloudy chocolate brown eyes. He stared up at the ceiling above his head, his forehead creasing in obvious confusion. With her free hand, Janet gently turned his head to her, trying to get him to focus on her voice, her face, and her words. “Colonel O’Neill,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “Colonel, if you can understand me I need you to squeeze my hand. Can you squeeze my hand, sir?”

Faintly, she felt him squeeze her hand with barely any pressure, but it lifted her spirits. At least he was responding. That was a good sign. Janet shot a relieved smile over his body toward Daniel and the rest of group, before turning back once again, forcing all her attention on the man lying before her. “That’s great, Colonel. Now, I need you to focus on me. Do you know where you are? Can you tell me what happened?”

His eyes, although bleary, were clearing a little, focusing on her face, on her eyes.

“Doc?” he whispered, his voice ragged and harsh, barely louder than a soft exhale.

“Yes, Colonel. Welcome back. Can you tell me where you are?”

As soon as O’Neill’s eyes finally cleared, focused intently on hers, it happened. At first she didn’t understand. At first, she simply let herself fall back, even the weak strength of his arm pushing her aside as his hands reached for his head and an ungodly scream ripped from his mouth.

She would never forget that sound for as long as she lived.

It was primal.

Pure fear.

Pure anguish.

Pure pain.

O’Neill’s body arched off the bed, his head and feet digging into the mattress, the veins on his neck and forehead bulging.

It took a few seconds before Janet regained her feet and immediately she called for the nurses, demanding action. “He’s seizing! I need a sedative! I need someone to hold him down before he hurts himself!” Teal’c and Daniel rushed over immediately, Teal’c trying to hold O’Neill’s hands away from his head from where he was trying to dig his hands into his skull, drawing blood. Daniel tried to throw himself on O’Neill’s wildly flailing legs and feet.

As quickly as it started, O’Neill collapsed, his eyes rolling up in his head, his head rolling slackly to lie on its side.

“Janet?” Daniel asked, his eyes wide as he straightened himself.

She quickly slid a hand along O’Neill’s neck, trying desperately to find a pulse, her eyes widening, her movements becoming for frantic when she felt nothing.

“I need the crash cart here, now!” Janet yelled, pulling the pillow from behind his head and climbing up on the bed, quickly finding the familiar place and starting chest compressions. One of the other night nurses stepped up immediately, checking the Colonel for a blocked airway before she started ventilating with an Ambu bag, synchronizing with Janet’s compressions.

“Damnit, Colonel! Your team just traveled halfway across the galaxy to get your sorry ass back here. Don’t you dare die on me now! I need you to fight,” Janet said, trying to keep her voice even, her eyes firmly fixed on the heart monitor. Even as she was working frantically to get his heart started again, the nurses continued to swarm around them, connecting leads to the various monitors. As each lead was connected, the sounds just added to the chaos.

As the crash cart rolled up beside the bed, Daniel and Teal’c jumped out of the way giving the doctors and nurses room to work, to move, to save their friend’s life.

“Ma’am, it’s charged at 200,” reported Miller.

“Good,” Janet said, jumping down to grab the paddles, rubbing them together to spread the clear jelly. “Clear.” Janet called, pressing them to O’Neill’s chest, his body responding slightly, the heart monitor barely registering the jolt.

“Give me 300,” Janet said, waiting for the crash cart to charge.

“300,” Miller said, her voice, while professional, held a nervous tone.

“Clear,” Janet yelled, the paddles coming down once again on O’Neill’s lifeless form. The heart monitor beeped once, forming a single beat before flat lining once again.

“Give me 360.”

“360.”

The dull thud echoed once again throughout the room, everyone’s eyes glued on the drama happening before them. This time the heart monitor showed several beats before flattening once again. O’Neill was giving up.

Janet did not take defeat easily.

“Give me 360 again and someone give him 2ccs of epinephrine IV push,” Janet ordered, her eyes watching carefully as Nurse Matthews checked and then inserted the drug into his IV. Thankfully they had been able to insert the IV without a problem. Janet couldn’t imagine what she would have done if she had been forced to do a cutdown.

“Epinephrine administered,” Anne said, stepping back.

“360,” Nurse Miller said, her eyes fixed firmly on the monitor.

“Clear,” Janet called for the fourth time, a silent prayer sent heavenward. Janet held her breath as he finally responded, the heart monitor settling into a steady rhythm. “Okay, everyone,” Janet said, eyeing the four nurses around the bed. “I need to draw labs. I want some stat gases. We also need to finish getting him hooked up to the monitors. I need someone to place the Foley catheter and get the pulse oximeter in place. I’ll decide later if I need to put in a Swan-Ganz catheter. Right now, I want a total body CT. I need to see what’s going on in there. Marie, can you prep him?”

“Yes,” she said, immediately responding, moving quickly to get the items she needed from the cabinets, brushing by Teal’c and Daniel, still standing to the side, huddled against the adjacent bed.

Janet took a deep breath, finally looking at the people stacked three-deep in her infirmary, staring at their unconscious friend. “Okay, people. I need this room cleared. I still have a lot of work to do and I very well can’t get it all done with you clogging the room. Out!”

General Hammond was the first to respond, dragging his eyes reluctantly away from O’Neill’s lifeless form and the nurses buzzing around it. “Yes, Doctor. Come on people, I believe now would be a good time for a briefing,” Hammond said, stepping back and gesturing at the door.

“Actually, General,” Janet said, gesturing for Doctor Warner to come forward. “SG1 needs to go through their post-mission checks and Doctor Warner can do those for you. Doctor Jackson looks like he might need a little special attention,” Janet said, eyeing Daniel’s cut critically.

“Of course, Doctor,” Hammond said nodding. “I’ll expect to see SG1 in the briefing room in 30 minutes.”

They were about to protest, but the steely look from both Janet and General Hammond gave them pause.

“That should be fine,” Janet said as SG1 meekly followed Doctor Warner leaving Jacob Carter and the tall stranger standing alongside Hammond.

“Well, George, I guess we need to talk,” Jacob said, eyeing Hammond with a half-smile. “Oh, and I’d like you to meet Egan, Lord of Meath. General Hammond, Lord Egan.”

“It is my please to meet you,” Egan said, bowing deeply to Hammond. “Although I wish it could be under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Likewise, Lord Egan,” Hammond said, nodding slightly. “Jake, maybe you had better take a few minutes and get yourselves cleaned up. There should be some clothing available in the VIP quarters. If you need anything, just ask one of the SFs.”

“Sounds good, George,” Jacob said. “We’ll be up in a few minutes. Come on, Egan. Let’s get changed.”

Egan nodded solemnly. “Very well, Jacob Carter. If this is what you desire, I shall accompany you.”

Janet finally breathed a sigh of relief as they left. It was time to get to work.

But as she turned, she realized that Daniel hadn’t moved a muscle, his eyes still firmly fixed on the unmoving body of his friend as the nurses rushed around him.

Janet approached him slowly, touching his arm lightly. “Daniel?”

“I’m fine, Janet. I can’t leave him.” Daniel’s eyes hadn’t budged, his arms still firmly fixed around him.

“Daniel, we need to get you cleaned up. We’re going to take good care of him.”

Daniel looked up, his blue eyes sending a heartfelt plea along with his words. “Janet, please...I need to be here.”

She held his eyes for a minute before nodding her head slowly. She stopped Nurse Matthews as she buzzed by once again. “Anne? Can you get Daniel cleaned up and quickly take his bloodwork? I think we should have an extra shirt around here somewhere for him...”

“Sure, Doctor. It’ll take a minute. Colonel O’Neill seems to have stabilized for now,” Matthews said with a knowing smile. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you, Janet,” Daniel said gratefully, flashing Janet a weak smile. After a long pause he continued, “Is he going to be okay?”

Janet glanced away, trying to school her expression into the professional mask she wore—much too often. “You know Colonel O’Neill. He always bounces back.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Daniel, we don’t know what’s wrong. Give us some time to figure it out and put a little faith in Jack. He’s not one to give up easily.”

“I know,” Daniel said, his words a quiet whisper, his eyes closing slightly as a sigh escaped his lips.

“We’re doing our best, Daniel. It may take some time, but he’ll be fine. I promise.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel wasn’t sure how long it took Nurse Matthews to return with a new black shirt. He’d spent the time staring at the lifeless body of his friend, hoping that he’d be able to pull through, to bounce back from the edge again. He’d turned the events over and over again in his mind, trying to see where they went wrong, how they could have done things better, quicker.

Daniel sighed; feeling the brief twinge through his mid-section as his cut reminded him that it was still there. He didn’t care about the pain—it reminded him that he was alive.

From the nurse’s expression when she finally returned to clean him up, Daniel knew that she wasn’t going to tolerate much from him—especially with Jack lying a few feet away. She had better things to do than baby-sit him. He was just grateful Janet had let him stay. Although, Daniel thought, if Janet had given in that easily, then it must mean that Jack was worse off then he thought.

Hopping onto the bed next to Jack, Daniel let Nurse Matthews do her job—taking blood samples, cleaning his various cuts—he’d gotten more than he realized—before finally handing him two pills and a glass of water.

“What’s this?” Daniel asked, tearing his eyes from his friend to stare accusingly at the nurse.

“Tylenol to help with the headache you apparently have,” she said, her tone patient and kind.

“Oh,” Daniel said, looking sheepish. “Thanks.”

Janet Fraiser picked that minute to walk back into the infirmary. “They’re ready for us in x-ray. Let’s move him,” she ordered. Four nurses quickly unhooked Jack from the various monitors, the room dropping into silence. Snapping up the sides of the gurney, they started rolling him out the door. Daniel rose to his feet intending to follow Jack every step of the way until Janet placed a hand on his chest stopping him in his tracks.

“Janet,” Daniel said, his voice tense, warning her not to stop him.

“Daniel, getting yourself all worked up will not help matters,” Janet said, her voice quiet and reassuring, but firm.

“I have to stay with him, Janet. I can’t...” Daniel looked away, unable to finish his sentence. His emotions were still to close to the surface.

Janet spoke again once Daniel had composed himself. “Don’t you have a briefing?”

“Screw the briefing. This is more important.”

“I’ll make sure to remind you that you said that when General Hammond comes up here to chew your butt,” Janet said, smiling warmly, her hand sliding to his shoulder offering support and comfort.

“Thanks, Janet,” Daniel said. “Don’t you have some x-rays to do?”

“Yes, Daniel,” she said, her eyes rolling heavenward before turning on her heel and walking out the door following the wake of the gurney.

The CT scans went quickly—especially with Jack unconscious. Normally, Jack would end up complaining and squirming until Janet or one of the other doctors had finally had enough and started threatening him with needles—really big needles. Then he’d settle down, allowing the nurses to do their work, but giving them long dangerous looks and glances.

Just as they were finishing up with the MRI and pulling Jack out of the machine, the attending nurse noticed that he was starting to come back to consciousness again. Daniel, who had been standing in the small control room adjacent to the CT room, raced in with Janet close at his heels. Daniel leaned down, grabbing Jack’s hand in his, trying to reassure his friend. Daniel knew from first-hand experience how disconcerting it could be to wake up in a strange place.

“Jack? Jack, can you hear me?” Daniel asked, trying to keep his voice calm and his tone measured. But even so, Daniel knew it wasn’t working. To his own ears he sounded worried, scared even.

Jack was fidgeting a little, his eyes starting to flutter until they finally opened, revealing the brown eyes to which Daniel was accustomed. “Hey Jack. Welcome back,” Daniel said, smiling for the first time in a long time as Jack finally focused his eyes on his friend’s face.

“Daniel?” Jack asked, his voice so quiet Daniel had to lean down, nearly placing his ear on Jack’s mouth to hear the uttered words.

“Yes, Jack. I’m here. You’re home and you’re safe,” Daniel said, giving Jack’s hand a reassuring squeeze which was returned with the barest of pressure.

“Daniel...” Jack said, his eyes clearly focused on Daniel’s face, but reflecting an emotion Daniel couldn’t place.

“What Jack? I’m here. Janet’s going to take good care of you, just take it easy.”

“...I’m...I’m sorry...”

“Sorry? For what? You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one who should be sorry—“Daniel said, but cutting himself off when he finally recognized the look in Jack’s eyes—a look Daniel never thought he’d ever see.

“...Tell...I’m...sorry...” Jack said, his body stiffening in pain before a cry, a hoarse scream, filled the room.

“Jack,” Daniel said in horror, his eyes widening with fear as his friend’s body convulsed in pain for the second time in an hour.

Janet reacted immediately, racing to the intercom and calling a Code Blue, summoning doctors and nurses to the small room. Just as she slammed the phone back on the hook, Jack’s body collapsed, his eyes rolling back into his head. When Janet shoved Daniel out of the way, he didn’t protest, too shocked at what had just happened before him.

Jack’s dying words had been an apology—an apology he never had to give.

As Daniel watched from the sidelines, Janet and her team frantically worked over his friend, finally bringing him back to life before his eyes. But for the first time in his life, Daniel wasn’t sure if Janet should have—he wasn’t sure that was the best idea. He’d seen the look in Jack’s eyes.

It was a mixture of sadness, of defeat, of acceptance.

Jack had given up.

Jack was ready to die.

That small fact stunned Daniel more than the medical ballet before him. But deep within Daniel, anger surged—a righteous anger, a cleansing anger. This was not going to be the way his friend would die.

Daniel wouldn’t permit it.

*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time Sam managed to pull herself out of the briefing, she was worried about Daniel. The briefing had lasted a little longer than two hours and he’d never made it. Apparently, the cut he’d gotten was worse than anyone originally thought—unless he had chosen not to make it to the briefing. It was something that she wouldn’t put past him, especially being a civilian and all.

She leaned heavily on the back wall of the elevator as it brought her up to level 21, back to the infirmary. Teal’c stood beside her, quietly calm, his hands clasped lightly behind his back—the picture of perfect calmness, her rock in the midst of a storm.

She closed her eyes, letting her body relax into the wall behind her, allowing it to support her.

“Major Carter, are you well?”

She took a long deep breath before answering. “I’m fine, Teal’c.”

“You do not appear to be fine, Major Carter.”

She opened her eyes, giving Teal’c a long look before turning her attention back to the elevator panel. At least that didn’t stare back at her with such intensity. “I’m fine,” she repeated, more to convince herself than her stoic protector.

Teal’c raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment, allowing her to exit the elevator first as the doors slid open. He silently followed her through the infirmary, her constant companion, offering support in his own unique way. It was almost as if she had plugged herself into an infinite reservoir of strength and serenity.

But even with his support, she was starting to panic. Colonel O’Neill was nowhere to be found and Daniel was still missing. She had even visited the ICU, which was dark and empty. Sam finally had to ask. She had to know. “Ah, nurse,” Sam said, grabbing a nurse who was passing by, charts in hand. “Have you seen Doctor Jackson or Colonel O’Neill?”

The nurse paused, her eyes flickering back and forth, never looking in Sam’s eyes. The pit of fear in Sam’s stomach churned, her mind coming up with the worst scenarios. “I don’t know where they are right now, Major,” the nurse answered carefully. “But, they were in the MRI room about thirty minutes ago. Doctor Fraiser called a Code Blue from there.” She shrugged, offering Sam a sympathetic expression.

“Thank you,” Sam said, already speeding away, her face pale. They might be too late.

At first when Sam arrived in the small room that housed the MRI machine, she thought that it was empty until she walked inside the dimly lit room. After a moment of adjustment, her eyes finally fell on the form of her friend sitting in the corner. Sam wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there staring into space. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his eyes unfocused, an obviously new oversized black shirt hanging loosely. It was as if Daniel was trying to become as small as he possibility could, crouched in the corner, willing himself to disappear. Sam’s heart sank as she approached him, kneeling down beside him, her hand gently resting on his leg. “Daniel, are you okay?” Sam asked, her voice full of compassion and concern.

It took a minute before he focused his eyes on her face, before he spoke, his voice haggard.

“Jack said he was sorry.”

“What?” Sam asked, leaning in so she could hear him better. Teal’c stood behind her, hovering over the two of them.

Daniel lifted his head, his blue eyes bloodshot. “He said he was sorry. He gave up, Sam. He was ready to die right there on the table,” Daniel said, his hand gesturing to the center of the room, to the spot where Sam imagined Colonel O’Neill had once occupied.

“Daniel, are you okay? Where is Colonel O’Neill?”

Daniel expelled a breath quickly, offering Sam a weary chuckle. “I don’t know where they took Jack. Probably the ICU. I’m fine. I just needed time to think.”

“He’s not in the ICU, we’ve been there already.”

Daniel looked sharply her, his forehead furrowing. “One of the Iso rooms maybe?”

“Come on, Daniel,” Sam said, offering Daniel her hand. “Let’s go find him.”

Daniel didn’t argue, letting her pull him to his feet.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel didn’t know how he got to the isolation room, didn’t remember how he’d made his way, nearly across the entire level, following Sam instinctively, trusting her to guide him. Teal’c trailed behind him, a gentle hand here and there helping him stay on his feet. The door to the Iso room was closed tight and SG1 was hesitant to barge in now that they were here. Instead, they chose to walk up the stairs to the observation level. At least there they would be able to see what was going on in the room before they walked in.

The sight struck a deep blow to all of them.

Daniel was convinced that Jack was hooked up to nearly every machine Janet had on hand—and some she had probably brought in from other departments. Various wires led from Jack’s body to the machines and monitors. The only piece of equipment not in use was the respirator—Janet had settled instead for a simple nasal prong instead. Apparently, Jack was breathing on his own. A small comfort in this horrible nightmare.

Jack was also in full body restraints.

It took Daniel a minute to regain his composure before he clicked the switch on the microphone, drawing Janet’s attention to him and the rest of his team standing above.

“Janet?” Daniel said, his voice hesitant.

She looked up from one of the monitors, her eyebrows drawing together. “Aren’t you all supposed to be at a briefing or something?”

“Probably,” Daniel admitted with a shrug, glancing sideways at Sam and Teal’c. “I...we just had to see him. Can we come down?”

Janet paused several beats before she finally answered. Daniel held his breath until she finally nodded—once—her shoulders rounded and slumped.

They ran down the stairs as quickly as they could. None of them wanted Janet to change her mind.

The steel door parted before them as soon as Daniel ran his card through the reader, the strong smell of antiseptic—that hospital smell—hitting him immediately. Daniel stepped cautiously into the room, noticing that there was a chair already set up next to the bed—and another one along the wall. Janet knew the team far too well. She knew they wouldn’t let Jack go through this alone.

“How is he?” Daniel asked, his voice hushed as he settled in at Jack’s side, wrapping his hand around Jack’s right hand trying not to dislodge any of the lines. Jack had done the whole drugged and strapped to the bed thing before and Daniel knew this could possibly be the worst thing to happen to his friend.

Janet looked up from the chart, her eyes tired. “Not good.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, stepping up alongside Daniel, her eyes filled with sorrow.

Janet took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “I don’t know.”

A few beats passed as Daniel gazed down at his friend, at the still form before him on the bed, Jack’s face nearly the same color as the bleached hospital sheets. Daniel tried to pull his eyes away from the thick leather restraints holding his friend to the bed.

Sam spoke a few minutes later, her voice quiet and even. “One of the nurses said that he coded again in x-ray.”

Janet glanced at Sam sharply, but didn’t contradict her. “Yes, he did. We almost lost him.”

“Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know, Sam. I have him under heavy sedation. I can’t keep bringing him back from the edge. I’m hoping the sedation will give us enough time.”

“For what?”

“To find out what’s killing him.”

Sam looked up, her eyes taking on a fierce determination. “Then I guess we had better get to work.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was nearly noon by the time General Hammond found time to step away from his desk. Honestly, he knew it wasn’t because he was busy. He was always busy, but this time it was different. He knew what was waiting for him down in Iso room one and he wasn’t ready to face the fact that his best officer—and his friend—might not live.

He’d received Doctor Fraiser’s preliminary report several hours before and he had already been through it twice—not liking what he read. From what he could decipher, Colonel O’Neill had something lodged in his brain—some kind of metallic alien device that was fused directly with his brain tissue. Doctor Fraiser guessed that this was what had caused the Colonel such intense pain when he first awoke in the infirmary.

George could still remember the sound, the scream that ripped through the air sending an intense feeling of dread through his body, nearly stopping his own heart in fear. And all of this came from the man who downplayed every injury and never said boo even if he was in excruciating pain.

The pain must have been unimaginable for O’Neill to react so violently.

George rubbed a hand across his face as if the gesture would help to push away the images in his mind, the sounds, and the words in black-and-white staring at him accusingly from the pages of the report before him.

Doctor Fraiser didn’t have the skill required to extract the object, but she also couldn’t keep him sedated indefinitely. As it was, the drugs were wearing off quickly, much faster than Fraiser was expecting with Colonel O’Neill nearly regaining consciousness early this morning. Twice so far, when O’Neill had woken he’d seized and gone into cardiac arrest. The second time she nearly couldn’t bring him back. Doctor Fraiser didn’t want a repeat performance and George didn’t blame her.

Apparently the only person who could have removed the device was already dead—thanks to some masterful sword work. George was doubtful that she would have helped in the first place.

Fraiser needed another option.

If she—or the rest of the medical staff—were unable to come up with a plan, there was only one option available and that was one that George was not prepared for. None of them were, especially since they had only just got O’Neill back.

The halls around the Isolation rooms were quiet. He approached the window overlooking the room cautiously, not wanting to look, but needing to see what was down there. It was only after several minutes of standing there motionless that he realized he was holding his breath, as if his very exhalation would push his friend over the edge.

Teal’c was sitting next to the bed, while Doctor Jackson, Major Carter, and Doctor Fraiser were nowhere to be seen. Two nurses circled the room, checking and double-checking the monitors, taking notes in the charts they held in their hands, adjusting flow rates as needed.

Jack O’Neill was deathly still.

Granted, the thick leather restraints didn’t permit much movement, but that image, of O’Neill fully restrained, was something George was having problems stomaching. He was grateful that O’Neill was sedated.

Teal’c chose that moment to look up, catching George’s eye. He inclined his head toward the General—a gesture of respect, warrior to warrior—his dark eyes reflecting concern and a deep understanding of what everyone was going through. Teal’c was wise in ways none of them would ever be—except perhaps O’Neill—Teal’c’s youthful appearance belying his years.

A quiet sound—someone clearing his throat—caused George to snap his head around, his gaze locking with Doctor Jackson’s. “Were you looking for me, son?” George asked, his tone fatherly and compassionate.

“Well, General,” Daniel started, stepping forward, his hands plunged deep into the pockets of his olive green BDUs, his black shirt oversized and hanging limply over his belt. “We’ve been thinking, ah, that is SG1 and Doctor Fraiser...and Jacob and Egan have been thinking and we might have come up with a solution to save Jack.”

George couldn’t help but let the surprise filter onto his face. It was only a handful of hours later and they’d already managed to come up with a solution—working more or less through the night. “Well, let’s hear it Doctor Jackson.”

“Well, sir, it’s a little farfetched, but we think it might work,” Daniel said, his confidence growing. “There’s Goa’uld technology in Meath, sir and Caedmon, Egan’s brother, might be able to help us. Egan thinks his brother can use some of the devices Morgana created.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Less than twenty minutes later, General Hammond called to order a meeting in the rather crowded briefing room on level 28. Sam wasn’t surprised when Daniel jumped in immediately once silence settled over the room.

“It’s very simple, Sir. We have to take Jack back to Meath,“Daniel said, leaning forward on his elbows, his voice passionate, a pencil clasped tightly between his fingers. Sam was nearly positive that with just a little more pressure the pencil would snap in half.

“Doctor Jackson, we’re here to discuss our options—“Hammond started but Daniel didn’t let him continue. Sam winced. Cutting off a General mid-sentence was usually not the best thing to do. While Hammond gave them plenty of leeway, there were times when he had to remind them of who was in charge. This, apparently, was one of those times.

“General, the only other option is to let Jack die and that’s not acceptable.”

“Doctor Jackson,” Hammond said, his tone mildly reprimanding the archeologist who finally got the hint, leaning back heavily in his chair, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Doctor, I can understand where you’re coming from, but we need to find the best plan for both Colonel O’Neill and the SGC.” Hammond held up his hand as soon as Daniel opened his mouth to speak again, stoppinghim before he launched into yet another lecture. “From the report submitted to me by Doctor Fraiser, surgery is not an option.”

“No, sir,” Janet said from her position at the far end of the briefing room table, sitting beside Jacob and across from Egan. “The device seems to be embedded in the very tissue of Colonel O’Neill’s brain and is somehow linked to his entire brain, including his spinal cord. I’m not sure how it got there in the first place and I don’t see any easy way of getting it out without doing major damage.”

“But you think that it can be done?”

“Yes, sir,” Janet said, nodding her head. “From what Jacob has been able to explain to me, the device is actually a variation of the memory device that we’ve already encountered. This one seems to have been modified.”

Her father was nodding slightly as Janet spoke, waiting for the opportunity to speak. “George, from what I can see, Morgana has somehow changed the device. Instead of sitting on the surface, this one buries itself in the brain, connecting directly. If she didn’t change it completely, there should be another device that is used to control it. If we can get our hands on that device, we might stand a better chance when it comes for its removal. At the very least, we should be able to turn down the sensitivity, perhaps even shutting it down altogether.”

“Are you suggesting that we leave it there?” Hammond asked.

“If we can shut it off, wouldn’t that be the safest route?”

“I have no desire to leave some piece of alien technology in my second-in-command’s head,” Hammond said, rising to his feet, a bundle of energy fueled by anger, frustration, and pure adrenaline. Ever since they had arrived back on base last night—really this morning—no one had gotten the chance to rest. They were all working on caffeine and determination.

“George, I know how you feel, but for Jack’s sake—“

“Jake, there’s more to it than that and you know it. What if the Goa’uld find out he has this thing in his head and their technology can activate it, what would happen in the field? I can’t in good conscience reactivate him in his current condition even if the device is turned off.”

“So General, we can’t do surgery, we can’t shut it off, where does that leave us?” Daniel asked, the only one brave enough to speak up when everyone else refused to make eye-contact, instead choosing to study finger nails and the grain in the briefing room table.

“That’s what we’re trying to decide, Doctor,” Hammond snapped, turning back to the table and away from the glass overlooking the gateroom.

“General Hammond, would not it prove more beneficial for us to return to Meath and retrieve the items in question?” Teal’c asked, his hands clasped before him, his back perfectly straight, his gaze level.

“Doctor?” Hammond asked, turning to Janet.

“That sounds like the best way,” Janet said, nodding slowly, thinking carefully about what needed to be done. “If Caedmon could come as well, we’d have his expertise.”

“Janet, there’s one thing you’re not considering,” Daniel said, his voice quiet as he leaned his head into the palm of his hand, his glasses hanging from his fingers. “What if something goes wrong? We’re at least four hours from Meath. What if you need that one thing we forgot to bring?”

“Then we take everything with us,” Jacob said.

Sam nodded, looking at Egan. “As long as you were comfortable with us doing so, Egan. It’s probably Colonel O’Neill’s best chance.”

“Whatever I can do to help, I am willing to do,” Egan said, his head inclining toward Sam in a now familiar gesture.

Hammond looked around the table and after several beats of silence made his decision. “Well, then, it looks like we’re settled. Major Carter, I want you to prepare SG1 to return to Meath to retrieve whatever technology is necessary.“

“Ah, no, sir,” Daniel said, holding up his pointer finger.

“General there is one thing that we can’t transport: the sarcophagus.”

“What?”

“Daniel? When did you see one of those?” Sam asked, her eyes wide. He’d never mentioned anything about a sarcophagus.

Daniel glanced over at Egan, clearly waiting for him to speak. “I showed him, Major Carter. One of these devices Morgana modified, the other she left the way she had found it.”

“So how does this change things, Doctor Jackson? We can just bring the sarcophagus back to the SGC.” Hammond stood with his arms crossed waiting for the answer.

“General, the sarcophagus is not easy to transport on a good day when it’s easily accessible. That device has probably been down in the foundations of the castle for hundreds of years. It’s not going to be easy and I don’t think Jack has enough time. Janet can do the extraction there.”

“Daniel, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing anything of the sort on an alien planet without all my equipment,” Janet protested.

“Then we bring what you need. The sarcophagus can be our back-up.” Daniel’s tone was even, his logic sound. Sam couldn’t argue with him. Besides, if something did go terribly wrong—although Janet could work miracles, the sarcophagus could bring the Colonel back to life.

“General, I’m going to have to agree with Daniel. It’s probably our best chance.”

Hammond held her gaze for several minutes before glancing around the table, meeting everyone’s eyes, trying to see if there was anyone opposed to the decision.

“SG1, you’ll leave as soon as Doctor Fraiser’s ready. Take anyone you need. Dismissed.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was two hours before Janet Fraiser was fully prepared to leave the SGC—although from the looks of things, she wasn’t happy about it. She kept sending evil looks his way. Daniel planned to avoid the infirmary for a very long time after this mission. While the Goa’uld were horrible, there was something about the petite doctor that frightened him in a much more personal way than any System Lord could.

Maybe Jack was right. Maybe it was because it involved large needles.

Daniel shrugged to himself, trying to focus on the mission at hand. Janet was bringing four people with her, Nurse Matthews and three orderlies—large men who Daniel figured would end up carrying Jack’s stretcher to Meath.

It wasn’t going to be an easy trip, but Daniel would go through the heart of a volcano if it would help.

The doors to the embarkation room slid open and Jack’s stretcher was wheeled in with him strapped securely to it. Janet had chosen one of the search and rescue stretchers figuring it would be easier to carry and it was designed for transporting injured people with places for IV bags and the like.

Sam, Jacob, and Egan walked in seconds later followed by Teal’c carrying his staff weapon.

General Hammond’s voice echoed throughout the room as the inner track of the Stargate began to spin. “Good luck and God speed, people.”

“Thank you, General,” Sam called out, turning to look at Jack before facing the Stargate. Daniel could see the lines of strain in her face. They desperately needed to rest, but until Jack was back in one piece, sleep would not come easily to any of them. They’d left him behind. It was now up to them to fix him.

The ka-whoosh of the wormhole startled Daniel, bringing him back to the present and away from his deeper, darker thoughts and doubts.

The cold of the wormhole didn’t seem so bad this time, Daniel thought. This time they’d bring Jack home.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel was grateful for small favors—it only started to snow when they were entering Meath. The hike had been tough enough through the snow and ice the last time. The last thing they needed was more of the same.

Caedmon was waiting for them as they trudged the last few steps to the door. Someone had apparently seen them coming and had told him. Clasping his brother in a warm embrace, Caedmon pulled his brother into the castle allowing the orderlies to bring the stretcher into the warmth inside with everyone else following close behind.

Daniel sighed deeply as soon as he felt the heat from the huge fireplace hit his face when he walked into the main hall. They had placed Jack close to the fire, allowing Janet the chance to fuss over him some more. Even though Janet had prepared Jack with warm blankets and extra layers, she had been concerned the entire hike to the village—making them stop several times to check on him. Her expression was grim and even though she didn’t say anything, her actions were loud enough—they had to get that device out of Jack fast.

As they thawed out, removing jackets and various layers, Egan and Caedmon stood to the side speaking in intensely quiet tones. Daniel tried to edge closer without being obvious, but Sam caught his eye and nodded, flashing him a look that clearly told him to stay out of it. If Caedmon was not willing to help, they had already decided that they’d just have to figure it out themselves. Between Jacob and Sam, Daniel was convinced that they’d be able to figure out something.

Since he couldn’t get any closer to Egan, Daniel decided to use his time wisely. Sooner or later he was going to have to bite the bullet, better now than later. He knelt down next to Janet as she ran her various checks over Jack. “How’s he doing?” he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice low so as not to disturb anyone.

“He could be better,” Janet said, her voice haggard. She aimed a particularly caustic glance his way. “I’d feel better if this was happening in my infirmary.”

Daniel winced slightly. “Janet, I wouldn’t have recommended this if I thought it would cause more problems.”

Janet sighed, turning again to face him. “I know, Daniel. It’s just that...this is bad. I’m just worried.”

“I know. We all are,” Daniel said smiling sympathetically just as a hand touched his shoulder. Looking up, Egan met his gaze.

“We should bring O’Neill downstairs. Caedmon will help us, but he has warned me that it will not be easy. No one has had the device in as long as O’Neill.”

“Just lead the way,” Janet said, rising to her feet.

Egan bowed slightly and signaled for two men to come forward. “Donat and Cavan will bring O’Neill. Hywel can escort some of you to quarters upstairs if you care to rest. I would recommend only a few attend the removal.”

Janet nodded, understanding clearly shining in her eyes. They all knew that this could go badly. Even with the sarcophagus nearby, Colonel O’Neill would not want an audience. “Anne, take Mario, Quentin, and Stefan and go with Hywel. I need you to set up a recovery room for Colonel O’Neill.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Anne Matthews said, shouldering one of the large bags containing some of the portable medical equipment Janet has insisted on bringing.

“Hywel,” Egan said, gesturing for the man to come forward. “I want you to give our quests connecting quarters in the East wing. Whatever they need, see that it is done.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Hywel said, bowing before he turned to Anne and offered a smile. “My Lady, would you follow me?”

As they walked out of the door, Anne sent an amazed glance over one of her shoulders to Janet that Daniel caught. He had to smile. Her first time off world and Anne was already making friends.

Daniel dragged himself back to the present, watching as the two large Meath guards gently lifted the stretcher bearing Jack and started out the door, forcing the rest of them to follow meekly behind. Daniel knew where they were going this time—the one place he had hoped he never had to see again, to be reminded...

Daniel shook his head, trying to clear it as Sam placed a hand on his arm. “Daniel?”

“I’m okay. Just thinking.”

“I can see that,” Sam said, her voice holding a note of amusement. “Do you always talk to yourself when you’re nervous?”

Daniel glanced over quickly, surprise clearly on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve been playing with your glasses non-stop since we got here. You’re hands keep moving, and now you’re talking to yourself. I’ve never seen you this anxious.” While Sam’s voice held a certain amount of humor, Daniel could see the concern and compassion hovering just beneath the surface. She was worried too, he knew. It was at these moments that he missed Jack’s sense of humor the most. His comments—while usually inappropriate and sarcastic—generally helped to break the tension of the moment. As long as Jack could joke about a situation, then it wasn’t that bad. It was when he got all serious that you knew that there was trouble—big trouble.

The hallway was just as dark and narrow as Daniel remembered; the stale smell of the air tickling his nose. As they walked past the cells Sam paused outside one of them and Daniel instinctively knew which one it was. Teal’c, noting Sam’s movement into the room, stepped back several paces, standing in the doorway beside Daniel.

Standing the middle of the small room, Sam’s shoulders slumped as she crossed her arms in front of her body, hugging them close to her as if she had gotten a chill. Daniel stepped a few paces forward before Sam’s voice stopped him.

“How long was he here?”

“I don’t know exactly, Sam,” Daniel said, quietly, his voice somehow carrying across the empty space. His hands were deep in his pockets and he couldn’t help but wonder at what Sam was thinking at this very minute.

She turned around a minute later, with tears in her eyes, looking at him in pure anguish. “We left him here, Daniel. We left him here to die.”

Daniel stepped forward, grabbing her in a warm embrace. Teal’c’s voice pulled them back. “We cannot change what has occurred here. Instead, we much choose to press on. We have but a short time and it is what we do with the time that we have that defines us.” He stepped closer, resting a hand on Sam and Daniel’s shoulders. “Even in the midst of darkness, there is always hope.”

They were silent for several moments, before Daniel was able to find his voice. “Teal’c, I never took you for a philosopher.”

Teal’c merely raised his eyebrow, a glint of understanding and brotherhood shining from the depths of his darkened eyes. “Come, let us finish the journey as we started, together.”

Daniel nodded, feeling Sam straighten next to him. They walked out of the room, their heads erect, without looking back.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When they entered the room at the end of the hallway, Sam nearly stopped dead in her tracks. Daniel hadn’t been kidding when he said the Goa’uld had been here, she thought, taking in the gaudy gold furnishings, the various cabinets and shelves built into the walls, the hieroglyphs covering every space surface. Colonel O’Neill had been placed on a table in the center of the room, the thin medical scrubs providing little protection against the chill in the room.

Daniel immediately stepped close to Egan, his voice rising in anger as he pointed at the metal table. “You’re going to put him back on that table?”

“Doctor Jackson, where else would you have us put him?” Egan asked calmly, his voice level, his hands clasped lightly before him. “It is for his benefit. The table will offer life support if there are complications.”

“Complications? What do you mean?” Janet asked, looking up sharply at the two men from where she was going through one of her medical bags.

“Although Caedmon does not expect any complications, he believes it would be best to be cautious, that is all.”

“Daniel,” Sam asked, stepping forward. “Are you okay with this?”

His eyes looked troubled, but he absently nodded his head, his gaze never leaving the Colonel’s pale face.

Caedmon chose that moment to step forward, a palm-sized device in his hand. He glanced around the room, looking at everyone, holding their gaze for the space of a moment before moving onto the next person. The silence was absolute.

“I will not fool you. This procedure will be painful for O’Neill and all those present. Do you wish me to continue?”

It was Daniel who finally answered, echoing the answer that was in everyone’s heart and mind. “Please, continue. It can’t get much worse than it already has been.”

“Very well,” Caedmon said. “I will need to activate the table’s restraint system. Any movement could cause severe consequences.”

Daniel nodded silently, his eyes wide. Sam stepped close, their shoulders brushing, giving each of them a measure of comfort and support.

Caedmon reached under the edge of the table, pressing several buttons and the surface of the table came to life, surging upward, covering the Colonel in a shimmering coating of metal. Janet pushed forward, about to protest, when Teal’c gently restrained her. “Caedmon will not harm him. Trust him.”

A few seconds later, the metal retracted, leaving the Colonel securely bound to the table. Sam was amazed at the technology. A cap of sorts had also formed, effectively encasing the Colonel’s head and melding into the restraint at his neck, holding his head secure and still. Glancing over, she noticed that Janet and Daniel looked a little panicked, but they were all drawing support from each other. Her father was looking on in amazement, Selmac probably providing him a measure of detachment.

“I am first going to turn the device off before I remove it,” Caedmon said, turning several of the small dials on the hand-held device and pressing it to the Colonel’s temple. After a few seconds, Caedmon glanced up, catching her eye. “That part is done. The next will be painful. I would suggest that someone prepare the sarcophagus in the adjoining room. I do not think it will be necessary, but would rather be prepared,” he said, as her father moved confidently to the door at the back of the room, switching on the light as he entered. Caedmon turned to Janet. “Doctor Fraiser, please prepare bandages to dress his wound.”

He adjusted several more dials before pressing it once again to the Colonel’s temple. This time, O’Neill groaned, the sound coming from deep within his body. Daniel stepped forward immediately, his hand resting on the Colonel’s arm trying to offer support and comfort although Sam doubted O’Neill was conscious of anything except the pain. Unbeknownst to her, she had also stepped forward, as had Teal’c, placing their hands on the Colonel, holding his hand or arm, as the case may be.

As the seconds passed, O’Neill’s moans increased in volume, his eyes starting to twitch, his hands beginning to clench.

“How much more?” Daniel asked, voicing the question that was running through her mind.

“When it is done,” came Caedmon’s cryptic reply.

Daniel rolled his eyes and leaned down, speaking quietly and calmly in the Colonel’s ear. “Jack, I don’t know if you can hear me or if you understand, but we’re here with you. We’re trying to make you better. I know it hurts now and you’ve been in so much pain, but trust me, this is the end. You just have to fight for a little while longer and then you can rest. Jack, we’re here with you. Hang in there.”

Daniel’s repeated the words over and over again, trying to soothe his friend as O’Neill’s moans finally turned into a blood-curdling scream that was cut off midway.

“What happened?” Janet asked, her voice frantic as she tried to push her way closer to the table.

“It is done,” Caedmon said simply, holding a blood-covered metal disk in his hand.

“Then release him and let me treat him,” Janet said, pushing forward, a gauze pad already pressed against the Colonel’s temple trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Egan stepped forward, pressing several buttons as the restraints melted away into the table surface as if they had never existed. Janet got to work quickly, cleaning and bandaging the wound that was not as large as Sam expected. She was also surprised that the Colonel had remained unconscious for the procedure. She didn’t think that was possible—although the table itself could have enhanced the sedatives already running through his system.

Several minutes later, Janet looked up, her eyes meeting Teal’c’s. “Can you bring him upstairs? It’ll be faster than carrying up a loaded stretcher.”

“As you wish Doctor Fraiser,” Teal’c said, reaching down to grasp O’Neill’s limp body, the Colonel appearing small in the Jaffa’s arms.

Once they were upstairs, the Colonel was placed in one of the large beds where Anne Matthews had set up complete with an IV drip and a portable heart monitor. Janet settled him in the bed quickly before shooing everyone off to bed.

“He won’t wake up for some time yet and I want all of you to get some rest. Anne can keep an eye on the Colonel.”

“I will also remain,” Teal’c said, standing immovably inside the door.

“Teal’c, you need to kel’no’reem as much as the rest of us need to sleep,” Janet said adamantly.

“I can meditate here effectively, Doctor Fraiser.”

“Teal’c...” Janet started, but caught Teal’c’s impassive gaze and finally relented. “Fine, as long as you promise to get some rest you can stay. But the rest of you,” Janet said turning back to the rest of the group. ”Off to bed. Egan, where did you put us?”

“I believe Hywel has left this entire suite of rooms for you. There are four bedrooms in addition to the one O’Neill is occupying. There is also an adjoining suite through the doors where the rest of your party is resting. Please make yourself comfortable. There is some food and drink on the sideboard. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask any one of the house servants.”

Sam gave Egan a grateful smile. “Thank you, Egan for your hospitality and all of your help. We really appreciate it.”

“It is I who am grateful, my Lady. It was because of O’Neill that we are able to move forward with friends such as you. I bid you good night.”

*~*~*~*~*~*  
Where was he?

Jack awoke slowly, the muted sounds of voices coming from a distance and the insistent beeping of a solitary monitor close by. The smells, though, were wrong. Instead of the antiseptic smells of the infirmary that he was used to, instead there was something else—a smell he couldn’t place but was comfortably familiar.

His eyes were heavy, too heavy for him to even think of opening. He wasn’t ready to face whatever was around him. His memories were jumbled, images flashing and running together, melding into one confusing symphony of noise and images.

He drifted lightly, surfing through his memories, trying to piece things together, to place the memories in some kind of context, to help him figure out where he was. The only thing that really stood out was Morgana. She had to be here somewhere, although, he couldn’t smell her.

Whenever she was around, you knew she was there. There was electricity in the air when she was in the room and her smell just enveloped you.

It was gone now.

The voices were familiar, but somehow out of reach. The muted voices, rising and falling in conversation. The accents familiar, the tones a constant companion.

He was alive. That much he figured because the afterlife shouldn’t hurt so much. Jack wasn’t sure if it was the memories, the images, or something else that was causing the most pain.

He smelled snow.

It was a distinctive smell. It wrapped around you, holding you close until you just had to breath deeply, taking in the air, the crisp, cold air, just before the snow started falling.

It didn’t snow on Lel this time of year—at least that’s what Paebel had said.

A rising surge of panic started to come from the depths of his body. Memories were starting to come together. He could remember the pain, the blood, the gore, the clanging of swords, the muffled thump as sword met flesh, the cries of anguish, the full-bodied howl of hatred, the last exhale of a dying man. But most of all, he could remember the rage, his rage.

Morgana was dead.

Killed.

Struck dead by Egan.

He remembered it now. The rebels had entered the city, crashing into the room brandishing swords and weapons, wreaking havoc and killing innocent men—good men, young men. Leaving them to lie on the floor in their quickly cooling pools of blood.

The red blood staining the pure white carpets.

Daniel.

Daniel had been there.

He remembered that now. He remembered Teal’c. They weren’t rebels. But, they’d fought against him. They killed Morgana.

He didn’t understand.

He didn’t understand why he could remember Daniel.

He didn’t understand why the pain hadn’t returned as it once had.

There must be something wrong. He was always punished for bad thoughts, for remembering.

He smelled snow.

He struggled to open his eyes. He had to see where he was. He couldn’t stand another day in the dungeons. He’d died a thousand times already. He couldn’t fight anymore.

He was tired.

He’d apologized. He’d apologized for everything he’d done. That should have been enough. Why couldn’t it have been enough? Why was it never enough?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel stretched and yawned, finally feeling like himself as he hoisted himself out of bed. Grabbing his glasses off the nightstand, he peered at his watch, trying to remember if he’d changed it to local time. He could never remember what time it was anymore.

They’d been here two days already and Jack wouldn’t wake up.

It was starting to get frustrating. Stepping out into the main chamber, Daniel saw that food was set up—something a cross between breakfast and lunch. Apparently, he’d missed breakfast again. He just hoped there would be some Erskine around. He’d gotten quite a taste for it.

Teal’c and Sam should have gone back to the SGC to report in to General Hammond. Jacob had left yesterday claiming that he needed to report back to the Tok’ra. He was apparently overdue.

Janet and Nurse Matthews were still here, quietly conversing by the fireplace, just outside Jack’s open door. Peering in, Daniel could see that Jack was still sleeping, his body shifted slightly from how he’d been lying the last time. Daniel expected Janet and Anne were trying to keep Jack comfortable. There was no reason for Jack to suffer from bed sores or the like just because he was on another planet.

Walking to the sideboard, Daniel spotted a pot of Erskine and poured himself a mug-full before turning to the two women. “Morning,” he said sheepishly, taking a quick sip from the mug and flashing a smile.

“Morning, Daniel,” Janet said, her eyes light. “It’s about time you were up.”

“How’s Jack?” Daniel asked, moving to perch on the arm of a nearby chair, allowing him to watch Jack while he talked.

“As far as I can tell, better. His pressure’s come up and it seems that he’s healing quickly—the usual Jack O’Neill,” Janet smiled, briefly before her face turned dark. “Although, I am a little concerned. He’s not responding as well as he should. His reflexes are delayed and he should have showed some sign of waking already.”

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Daniel stood and the liquid in his mug spilling on his hand.

Janet raised her voice a little, trying to keep her voice calm. “Because that was just the reaction I was hoping to avoid.”

“Oh,” Daniel said, looking away briefly. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to sit with Jack.”

“Go ahead, Daniel,” Janet said softly with a knowing smile. “I’m sure he knows you’re there.”

“Thanks, Janet,” he said, pausing at the door to Jack’s room before he moved quietly to sit at the bedside. Although Jack was lying peacefully, every now and then Daniel would notice one of Jack’s eyelids twitching, a finger moving, a slight shifting of his weight.

Jack was waking.

“Jack,” Daniel said, swiftly pulling his cup down and ignoring the splashing liquid on his fingers. Daniel leaned forward, taking Jack’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. “Jack, you’re safe. I’m here with you. You don’t have to worry. You’re getting better. Can you open your eyes? Jack, can you understand me?” When he got a weak pressure on his hand, Daniel turned to the open door, raising his voice to carry into the room. “Janet, Jack’s waking.”

A soft flutter of movement beside him heralded the arrival of Anne and Janet, checking the monitors and their patient. Janet reached under the covers to grab Jack’s other hand, careful not to disturb the IV drip running into the back of it. “Colonel O’Neill, it’s time for you to wake up. Can you open your eyes for me, sir?”

Daniel looked inquiringly at her and she quickly shook her head. Nothing.

“Jack, we’re here. You’re safe. We’d really like you to wake up because you’re starting to worry us.” When Janet shot him a look of annoyance, Daniel shrugged. It was the best they could come up with, but apparently, it was enough. Jack’s eyes twitched again several times before they slowly opened, trying to focus on the faces before him.

“Doc?” Jack asked, his forehead creasing in pain and concentration.

“Welcome back, Colonel,” Janet said, the relief clearly evident in her voice. “Good to see you again. How are you feeling?”

“Confused...thirsty,” Jack answered several beats later.

“We’ll we can take care of the latter one easily enough,” Janet said, gesturing for Anne to grab some water. There were no ice chips around—as long as you didn’t count the snow. “Here you go, Colonel.” Janet said, helping lift Jack a little to take a sip from the straw.

“Daniel...” Jack said a moment later as Janet started running some quick tests, checking his current level of awareness. It was something members of SG1 were intimately familiar with due, primarily, to their many trips to the infirmary.

“I’m here, Jack,” Daniel said, squeezing Jack’s hand. Jack’s head turned slightly, his brown eyes finally resting on Daniel’s face.

“You...were...there...”

“Where Jack?”

“...Morgana...”

Daniel closed his eyes before he answered. Although Jack’s eyes were still a little cloudy, they were still hard to face. Daniel chose the easy way out for now, although knowing Jack that wouldn’t last for long. “Yes, Jack. I was there and I’m here with you now. Rest Jack. You’re safe.”

Jack nodded slightly, his eyes closing again as he drifted off to sleep. Daniel looked across Jack’s sleeping form at Janet, a question forming on his lips. She nodded vigorously and indicated that he should follow her out of the room back into the main chamber.

“How is he, Janet? Be honest,” Daniel said quietly once they’d walked far enough away. Anne was still in the room fussing over Jack.

“He’s not as alert as I’d like to see. I hope that the device didn’t do any permanent damage. We’ll know more as time goes on,” Janet said, her eyes taking on a faraway look.

“Janet?” Daniel asked, prompting her to continue.

She looked up sharply, seemingly surprised by the sound of Daniel’s voice. “Give him time, Daniel. He’s been through the wringer. Give him time.” Janet patted Daniel’s arm lightly before walking away, her expression pensive.

Daniel glanced back toward his friend, sighing deeply before moving quietly back into the room. Jack never did things halfway, that was for sure. He just wished it didn’t always involve some type of bodily harm.

Daniel sank down in the bedside chair, thankful it wasn’t the hard plastic he was used to in the infirmary. At least, he’d be comfortable. Daniel reached down to grab one of his books, turning to the spot he’d left off, and settled in for an afternoon of reading.

*~*~*~*~*~*

His dreams were melding together with reality—or so he thought.

Jack was in Meath, or at least that was what he finally concluded. The smell was finally what gave it away. The smell of snow was something you couldn’t hide from Jack O’Neill.

He had awoken a few minutes ago and was greeted by the quiet snoring of his attending archeologist in the dim half-light. It was either dawn or dusk—he couldn’t tell which and didn’t really care. The fact that he recognized the snore confused him more until he remembered Daniel had spoken to him before—and Jack hadn’t had any ill effects.

He drifted off again, already tired from his brief stint awake.

He did that several times during the ensuing week, each time able to stay awake longer than the previous time. The scenery didn’t change much. There was always someone sitting with him—usually one of his team members. It offered him a quiet comfort, that he wasn’t alone. He finally was able to piece together a lot of what had happened from his conversations with Carter, Teal’c, and Daniel. Those conversations helped. They let him put things in context and sort reality from dreams.

Sometimes that was the hardest part—telling the difference. Figuring out what was real, what was a memory, and what was just a dream.

He wished his memories weren’t so humiliating. Being weak and injured didn’t help. He was just a big bear with a sore paw. He usually just ended up growling at someone—no mean feat especially in his condition. He watched them all walk around him on eggshells, always worried that they might upset him in some way.

In some ways, he didn’t care what they thought.

It didn’t really matter. It was only a matter of time now, before Hammond would send him packing. Jack wouldn’t blame him, really. From just the memories Jack could remember clearly, he wouldn’t hesitate if he were in Hammond’s place.

Daniel’s voice dragged him back to the present, away from his thoughts. Jack raised his eyes toward the door, watching the archeologist saunter in, his hands deep in his pockets.  
“Hey, Jack, good morning. It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, Daniel,” Jack answered as Daniel settled into the chair adjacent to the bed. “I’m the same as when you asked me the last time.”

“Well, I see Janet’s let you sit up a little more,” Daniel noted, pointing to the pillows piled behind Jack’s back, propping him up.

“Yes, Daniel,” Jack said, watching Daniel’s eyes check him over. “It’s not like I have anywhere to go.”

“I know,” Daniel said, quickly pulling his eyes up to Jack’s face, but Jack could see that Daniel wasn’t happy with what he saw. “Janet mentioned something about going home in a few days. Think you’ll be up for it?”

“Whatever the good doctor decides,” Jack said noncommittally.

“Well.”

“Well?”

“Jack...”

“What Daniel?”

“How do you...feel about all of this?”

“Feel?”

“That’s not a foreign word or anything, Jack. Yes, how do you feel about all this?”

Jack shrugged. “What’s there to feel?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you...I don’t know, upset, angry, something?” Daniel was unable to keep still, his hands gesturing wildly, emphasizing each word.

Jack looked at him for a minute before answering. “Are you feeling neglected that I didn’t bring you back a T-shirt this time?”

“Jack, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Jack.”

“Daniel.”

“Jack.”

“Daniel, I can keep this up all day.”

“Jack.”

“Daniel, I’m tired. Why don’t you go annoy someone else?” Jack said, pointedly closing his eyes. The conversation was over as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t as if Daniel really cared what he thought about anything. He just probably had nothing better to do than pester a sick man.

*~*~*~*~*~*

They were in Meath nearly three weeks before Janet felt comfortable enough with the way Jack was progressing to suggest the hike back to the gate. During that time, SG1 slowly drew him into conversations as he mended. At first he had been gruff, refusing to speak unless absolutely necessary and then, only with cutting remarks. He mellowed, as he grew stronger. Gradually, Janet made him exercise to try and get his strength back, walking around the room, and then finally, roaming the halls upstairs in the castle—always with an escort, just in case.

But by this time, Jack was quiet and he had stopped complaining—that put everyone on guard.

When Jack O’Neill was cooperative and civil when he was recuperating from an injury, there was something wrong. That much was obvious. Getting Jack O’Neill to admit it was impossible.

The walk back to the gate took longer than expected, with several breaks along the way. Egan had accompanied them himself, wanting to see them to the Stargate personally. While Daniel had enjoyed his time learning about Meath and her people, the time spent on Ildanach was bittersweet. The experience had changed his friend dramatically and Daniel was not sure what that meant in the long run.

They left Meath with promises to return soon with the scientists and anthropologists as was outlined in the treaty.

Once back in the SGC, however, Jack was still under the firm hand of Janet Fraiser. It was nearly another week—and multitudes of tests later—before Janet decided to release him. She finally let him go home, comfortable that he was recovering.

Jack had finally started participating in the discussions around him, contributing to the banter with what seemed like his normal level of gusto. For all intents and purposes, Jack O’Neill had bounced back once again. With a little time to rest, he would be back as good as new. To his team’s eyes, though, things fell just short. The sparkle in his eyes was gone. While he spouted one bad joke after another, one horrendous pun after pun, they knew it was just a show, a sham.

The laughter never reached his eyes.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack stepped out of Cheyenne Mountain and paused long enough to breathe in the fresh air of the Colorado Mountains. There was nothing like it in the universe.

Daniel turned around at Jack’s pause, his forehead creasing. “Jack, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Daniel. Stop hovering.”

“Fine, Jack.” But when Jack didn’t move immediately, Jack saw Daniel cast a glance at Sam and Teal’c before he starting jingling the keys in his hand. “Are you coming?”

Jack sighed, but answered the question. “Yes, Daniel,” he said, stepping closer to the group. “You know, I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home.”

“Janet said no driving for the time being,” Carter said, matching her pace to his as they walked to one of the Air Force cars. General Hammond had offered the use of one of the cars for the time being—especially since Daniel and Carter had small cars. Jack’s truck had been placed in storage when he had been declared as missing in action and it would take a few days before Jack would be able to get it out.

“And how do you expect me to get groceries if I don’t have a car?”

“We did that already,” Daniel said quietly, climbing into the car.

“What?” Jack stopped, his hand on the car door handle.

“Jack, get in already,” Daniel called, starting the car. “I’ll explain on the way.”

“Fine,” Jack said, dropping into the front passenger seat and slamming the door. For a good portion of the ride home he listened to his team prattle on about one thing or another, not listening to most of it. Nothing really mattered in the long run. Nothing would change his mind.

He just needed time.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel watched Jack carefully during the ride to his house. Jack barely said a word, causing the car to drop into one uncomfortable silence after another. It was plainly obvious he wasn’t listening and had practically tuned out everything except what was happening in his little world inside his head—and that was one place Jack had locked up tight.

Try as he might, Daniel hadn’t been able to break through the walls Jack had erected. In a way, Jack was just like he was during that first Stargate mission—maybe even worse.

At least then, he had been civil.

Pulling into the driveway, Daniel stopped the car, shutting off the engine. Jack’s hand stopped him from pulling the key from the ignition.

Daniel met Jack’s cold, dark eyes across the silence. “Daniel, thanks for the ride home. I appreciate it, but I’d rather be alone for a little while.”

“Sir, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Sam piped up from the back of the car as she leaned forward. The air in the car was tense.

“Carter, you’ve been hovering over me for the last three weeks. It’s about time I had a little time to myself, don’t you think?”

“But, sir—“

“Do I need to make it an order, Major?” Jack’s voice was hard and cold.

“O’Neill, I do not believe you are yourself.”

“Teal’c, I’m fine. A little tired, maybe, but fine,” Jack said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Jack, maybe if we just came in for a little while—“

“Daniel, what didn’t you understand? I don’t need your company and I don’t want your company. End of discussion.” Jack shoved the door open with his elbow, his left hand reaching for the keys in his pocket. Daniel watched dumbfounded as Jack walked across the yard and up the path to the front door. A beat later and Jack unlocked the door, slamming it behind him. The lights flickered on inside a few seconds later.

Sighing deeply, Daniel dropped his head down to rest on his hands resting on the steering wheel.

“That went well.”

“He hates us, doesn’t he?” Sam asked, her voice quiet, harsh.

Daniel glanced up, catching Sam’s weary blue eyes in the rear-view mirror. “I don’t know, Sam, but I intend on finding out.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Day melded into night, time running together, becoming meaningless.

He wasn’t even sure what day it was anymore and that suited him just fine.

Janet had given him two weeks of medical leave and a few days after he began it, Jack had called General Hammond requesting additional time off. Hammond had granted it immediately, giving Jack an additional two weeks of time before he was expected to report back to Cheyenne Mountain.

That would give him plenty of time.

His team had called several times, leaving messages that he erased before listening to them. They had even stopped by the house several times, but he managed to send them away each time. He was sure that eventually they’d get the message. He didn’t want to see them. He didn’t need to see them.

With time, they’d come to understand the truth of the matter: they didn’t need him—never had. He just ended up bringing bad tidings—angry Jaffa, cruel Goa’ulds, and maddened, maniacal aliens—with his very presence. They’d be better off without him‚just like Charlie would have been.

Absently lifting the tumbler of Jack Daniel's to his lips, Jack finished it in one long swallow, the thump of the glass against the tabletop sounding hollow. His eyes gazed unseeing through the living room windows to the darkness outside.

Jack rubbed his temple with his hand, the slight bump of a scar, the only outward evidence of what he had endured this time around. There was nothing left to show for the pain he had endured except memories—and those he had plenty of.

Several days ago, he’d finally gotten his truck back which allowed him to stock up the house with various food items and beverages—most of which were on Fraiser’s list of do not dos.

He didn’t care.

He even bought two cases of liquor—the good stuff.

It helped dull the pain, the ache of his failures, the agony of failing his son.

He’d been to the cemetery to talk to his son the other day. To tell him he was sorry. Jack didn’t think Charlie would ever forgive him for what he’d done.

Jack had blood on his hands—the blood of good men who had died because of him.

There was only one way to atone for what he’d done.

It was as simple as that.

He still had the gun that had killed his son. Of course, it was locked away now, put out of reach. He’d learned his lesson the hard way, paying for his incompetence with the life of his son.

He even kept it clean. It was habit—a habit he had learned in the service. It was a good habit to keep since it could make the difference between life and death.

In the palm of his hands, he held the power of life and death.

He didn’t know how long he sat there staring at the gun in his hands before something made him look up, his eyes locking with Daniel’s wide blue eyes as he stood several feet from the living room coffee table.

“Jack...” Daniel started, “what’s going on?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Daniel had made up his mind that today was going to be the day he confronted Jack. It had been three weeks now and Jack had managed to avoid everyone—Teal’c, Janet, Sam, Cassie, and General Hammond—even though each of them had been to the house and had left numerous messages.

Jack wasn’t taking calls and he certainly was not in the mood for visitors.

The last time Sam had attempted to talk to Jack, he didn’t even bother coming to the door. He had been home—his truck in the driveway—but he had ignored her knocks and entreaties to open the door.

Daniel pulled up, parking his car behind Jack’s truck, flicking off his headlights and turning the engine off. He sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the sounds of his car as it started cooling off. The lights were on inside Jack’s house—in the living room and kitchen, as far as Daniel could see.

In any normal circumstance, Daniel would have called first, warning Jack that he was going to drop by, but this time he wanted surprise on his side. He’d had a weird feeling all day. Jack was due to return to the Mountain on Monday, five days from now, but Daniel was doubtful that Jack would appear.

He knew Jack was very private, keeping most everything to himself. Daniel knew there were times when Jack needed his space to come to terms with a tough mission or just get his balance back. Daniel could understand. Throughout his life, Daniel had spent countless hours doing just that, losing himself in the work of one dig or another in an effort to help him put things in balance.

Some people considered it running away, whereas he knew the truth of the matter. It helped him get his balance.

This time, though, Jack had gone too far. This was a time when he needed to have friends around to help bring him back from the horrible places he had been.

Daniel was intent on making sure Jack got the support he needed—ready to do whatever it takes.

He was grateful that Jack had had the foresight several years back to give his team the keys to his house. It helped when they had to take care of the house if he had an extended stay in the infirmary or on base for one reason or another. It also helped when he was recuperating at home—like now.

Standing at the front door, Daniel leaned in, trying to hear anything—something—that would give him an idea as to what Jack might be doing. The silence was deafening in its absoluteness.

No hockey commentators commentating on the television.

No classical music blaring from the stereo system.

No sounds of running water from the shower or the kitchen sink.

The house was silent.

The tranquility covered the house in a thick wool blanket. It was smothering in its intensity.

The keys jingled loudly in the silence as Daniel found the keyhole in the dark, unlocking the front door and pushing it open a hair, trying to peer into the foyer.  
There was definitely light coming in from the direction of the living room, but that was about it. The rest of the house was dark and silent—except for the pounding of Daniel’s heart.

Something was wrong.

He was certain of it.

“Jack?” Daniel called, quietly pushing the door open wider so he could enter, pocketing the keys. He shrugged off his jacket, hanging on a hook in the hallway, waiting for Jack to come bounding into the room. Daniel was prepared for a fight. He was staying whether Jack wanted him here or not.

Daniel just wasn’t prepared for the silence.

The hollow sound of a glass on wood echoed from the depths of the living room and Daniel quietly paced forward. He really didn’t want to scare Jack. He knew what Jack could do to someone with his bare hands and that was not on the agenda for the evening.

“Jack?” Daniel called again, peering into the living room.

The sight before him nearly floored him—Jack caressing a handgun, an empty bottle—make that bottles—of liquor scattered throughout the room. From the looks of things, Jack hadn’t moved from that spot for days.

Daniel stepped forward carefully, trying not to frighten his friend into doing something rash. That was the last thing on his mind.

Daniel wasn’t sure if it was his presence of the pounding of his heart that made Jack look up, their eyes locking together.

Daniel tried to speak in an innocent and non-confrontational a tone as he could manage. “Jack, what’s going on?”

When Jack didn’t answer him for several minutes, instead staring at Daniel, confusion plainly evident on his face, Daniel stepped forward a few more paces. “Jack, you know, this is not exactly the easiest way for me to have a conversation with you...with me doing all the talking.” Daniel paused again, waiting for a response. “Jack, what’s going on?”

Daniel settled into the chair opposite from Jack, his friend’s eyes following him the whole way.

“Daniel?” Jack whispered.

“Yes, Jack. I’m here. Talk to me,” Daniel encouraged, trying to keep his eyes linked with Jack’s but clearly cognizant of the proximity of the gun in Jack’s hands.

“What’s there to talk about, Daniel?” Jack said bitterly, leaning back heavily in his seat, his glazed brown eyes leveled at Daniel. His hands though, were constantly in motion, gently gliding along the object in his hands, turning it over and over.

“I don’t know,” Daniel shrugged. “Maybe why you’re sitting in here on a perfectly clear night when you could be star-gazing.”

“Doc said no strenuous energy. I think she would consider climbing the ladder up to the roof strenuous.”

“Not that you pay attention to her orders generally,” Daniel pointed out, his eyes flicking to the empty Jack Daniel’s bottle on the table.

“Yeah, well, drinking’s not strenuous. She did tell me to drink lots of liquids.”

“Water. Juice. Not alcohol.”

Jack tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What do you care?”

“What do you mean?”

“Since when do you care what I think? Remember, I’m just the stupid, shallow, shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later Air Force Colonel who doesn’t know any better.”

“Jack,” Daniel said, a tone of warning in his voice. “You should know me better than that.”

“Yeah, well, things have changed.”

“What’s changed, Jack? I haven’t,” Daniel said, his tone conversational and calm, unlike the tensing muscles in his shoulders.

“Sure, you have.”

“Jack, I’m not here to talk about me, as you are so elegantly changing the topic of the conversation.”

“Then why are you here? Didn’t I throw you out of my house enough this past week?”

“Week? Jack, you’ve been home a little more than three weeks already.”

“It doesn’t matter. You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Which one?”

“Why are you here?”

“To talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to talk to me? It’s not like I’ll have anything enlightening to add to the conversation. Remember to use small words and don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out,” Jack said, rising unsteadily to his feet, grabbing the glass on the table, and heading into the kitchen.

“Jack,” Daniel said, trying hard not to sigh. “Why do you insist on berating yourself? It’s really not becoming.”

“Not berating, merely speaking the truth, Daniel. You should know something about that.” The clinking of glass was heard from the kitchen, accompanying Jack’s words.

“Jack, would you please just talk to me?”

“What do you think I am doing?” Jack asked, standing in the doorway to the living room, a refilled tumbler in one hand and the gun in his other.

“We are tossing words back and forth, yes, but we’re not really talking.”

“What do you want from me, Daniel? I’m a tired old man and you should really be leaving.”

“While you may be tired, and I’d have to admit that from my perspective you could do with...several...hours...days of good quality sleep, but I would never classify you as an old man.”

“Wonderful,” Jack said, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He took a long sip of his drink, closing his eyes as the liquor hit the back of his throat.

“Jack, what are you doing with the gun?”

“Nothing.”

“Jack...”

“Daniel.”

“Jack.”

“Again, I have to ask, why do you care?”

“Because you’re my friend.”

Jack sputtered into his drink, nearly spilling it all over his lap. “Yeah sure. Since when?”

“Jack...we’ve been friends for years now.”

“I’ve had better enemies than you.”

“Jack...” Daniel said, but anger flared in Jack’s eyes.

“What kind of friend are you to leave me behind? You have no idea what I went through just to make sure you got your sorry asses back home and what do you do? You come back and make a treaty with those god forsaken people!”

“Jack, we had no idea. Morgana tricked us...fooled us, we didn’t even know we’d left you behind...”

“You left me behind! End of story.” Jack’s eyes were cold and hard.

“Jack—“

“Do you have any idea what happened to me? Oh, what do you care?” Jack said, throwing up his hands in resignation.

“What do you want me to say, Jack?” Daniel asked, raising his voice. “I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I wish—“

“I don’t want your pity. That’s the last thing I want.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to go away.”

“Why? So you can blow your head off? What will that solve?”

Jack paused, the fight leaving his body in one swift breath, his answer no louder than a whisper. “Lots of things.”

“Like what, Jack? What do you think this will solve? Will it take away your fears, your memories, your pain? Sure, but what will that leave you with? Nothing.” Daniel leaned forward in his chair, trying to reach across the table to touch Jack’s leg—anything to help ground Jack in the here and now. “Jack, we’re here to help you get through this. We want to help you. We don’t want to lose you—especially since we just got you back.”

“Wasted your time,” Jack muttered, his head down, his eyes half-closed but intent on his hands and the object they held.

“I don’t think so, and neither does anyone else,” Daniel said, quickly rising to sit beside Jack on the couch.

“You should have just let me die—would have been easier.”

“Never let that happen, Jack. You should know that by now.”

“Can’t you see, Daniel?”

“What, Jack?”

“My hands.”

“What about them?”

“They’ve killed hundreds of people. Hundreds.”

“We’ve all had to do some damn distasteful things in the course of the program, Jack. We don’t hold that against you. We never have and never will. We’re at war with the Goa’uld. They don’t make things easy.”

“I’m tired, Daniel,” Jack said, raising his head, his eyes showing his inner turmoil and anguish.

“I know, Jack. But you have to trust me. Things will get better. You will get better.”

Jack shook his head, his eyes closing as a deep sigh escaped his mouth. “How can you even trust me?”

“What do you mean, Jack?”

“I told her everything she wanted to know. She broke me. What’s to say someone can’t do it again? I’m too tired and old for this.”

“Jack, you might have told her things, but codes can be changed and, besides, she’s no longer around to worry about. But, she didn’t break you, Jack, not by a long shot. You’re stronger than she ever was.”

“Daniel, I was there. I watched myself. I know what I did. I gave my life to her. I killed for her—I would have killed you if I had been given the chance.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I would have.”

“But it didn’t come to that. It never happened. Besides, there were extenuating circumstances.”

Jack sighed, looking away from Daniel, his emotions playing across his face. Daniel could never remember seeing Jack so vulnerable, so scared, so unsure. The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up somehow.

There had to be a way for Daniel to get through to him.

“I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation,” Jack said, finally turning back to Daniel several minutes later. “It’s not going to change things.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not.”

“Why? Just because you said so? Well, that’s not an answer.”

“You want me to spell it out for you, Daniel? You don’t need me, you never did. Between you and Carter and Teal’c, you’ve managed to save the world several hundred times over. What do you need me for? I’m just an overgrown babysitter who manages to draw more attention to you than necessary. You’d be better off without me.”

“And where did this come from?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Jack—“

“Daniel, why argue? You know it’s the truth.”

“Jack—“

“Daniel, don’t you get it? I killed my son! I’ve killed hundreds of people—many of them under my command. I’ve almost killed all of you on several occasions. What’s to say that next time I won’t miss?”

“Jack, is that what’s this has been all about? Is that why you’ve been backing off—you’re worried that you’re a bad luck charm?” Daniel was incredulous.

“Fine, laugh it off. Maybe the next time you won’t live to tell the tale.”

“Jack, I trust you with my life. I always have and I always will.”

“You’re apparently denser than I thought.”

“Jack, this isn’t a joke and this isn’t the answer,” Daniel said, laying his hand on Jack’s over the gun in his lap. “You need to stop fighting me. Do you think Charlie would want you to give it all up?”

Jack’s head came up sharply. “I’m doing this for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s something I should have done a long time ago...I promised him...I promised him...”

“What did you promise him, Jack?”

Jack responded, but the answer was slow in coming. “That I’d...do the right thing...but...I’ve just managed to bring...death to my friends. I can’t do that anymore.”

Jack looked deflated. The fight was gone.

Daniel took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “Jack, you’re the most honorable man I know and, I have to tell you, that it’s not your choice as to who your friends are or what they do.” Daniel looked carefully at his friend sitting beside him. Jack was listening, even though he was staring across the room, his eyes unfocused. “It’s not like you’re the only one who has a price on his head. Besides, we all chose to live this kind of life. We know the risks just as well as you do. It’s just harder on you because you’re the one who has to make the decisions—and live by them no matter what the consequences. Sometimes...most of the time, I forget about that. I forget that for you, the missions live on. You’re just as human as the rest of us, although you’d never admit it to anyone, let alone yourself.”

Jack turned his head, his tired eyes meeting Daniel’s.

“Don’t push us away. We’re family. We’re not going anywhere—and neither are you.” Daniel grasped the gun in his hands, gently pulling it from Jack’s grip—and getting no argument.

Placing the gun at the far side of the table, out of Jack’s line of sight, Daniel turned back to his friend. “Jack, are you going to be okay?”

He nodded slowly, refusing to meet Daniel’s eyes.

“Jack, why don’t we get you to bed? You look like you could use some sleep.”

Jack nodded again, allowing Daniel to hoist him to his feet. Steadying Jack on his feet, Daniel pulled Jack’s arm across his shoulders, carefully guiding him upstairs to the bedroom. He helped Jack undress and put him to bed, closing the shades once Jack started snoring softly.

Daniel made his way downstairs, staring at the papers and bottles scattered throughout the living room and kitchen. He cleaned up a little bit before walking back upstairs to check on Jack. He wanted to make sure he was sleeping—after all the drinking he was doing, Daniel didn’t think it would be a problem—but he wanted to make sure.

Daniel peered into the room, the light from the hallway casting a small beam of light on the bed. Jack was sound asleep.

Daniel moved back downstairs, grabbing the phone off the cradle in the kitchen before stepping into the living room, curling up on the couch. He had some calls to make.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jack awoke to a darkened room, distant sounds coming from downstairs. He had a headache, but was surprised that it wasn’t as bad as he expected. Rubbing a hand across his face, trying to wipe away the sleepiness, Jack turned, squinting at the bedside clock.

He blinked several times, trying to clear his eyes, but the numbers stayed the same.

He’d slept through the night and the majority of the next day. No wonder he didn’t have such a bad headache—he’d slept off his hangover.

He rose, his muscles stiff, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet lightly touching the floor. Yawning, he padded over to the bathroom, taking care of necessary business before taking a good look at himself in the mirror.

He looked old.

He looked tired.

He looked alive.

Splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth, he moved quietly around the room, getting dressed in an old pair of jeans and a comfortable sweatshirt.

A soft knock at the door made him pause as he tried to pull on his socks. “Come in,” he called, his voice a little rough.

Daniel poked his head in the room, a hesitant expression on his face. “Hey Jack, how are you doing?”

Jack thought for a minute before answering, clearing his throat. “Okay, Daniel. I’m okay.” He looked at the socks in his hands before continuing, finding it hard to meet his friend’s eyes. “Thanks for last night.”

“Don’t mention it,” Daniel said, a comfortable smile on his face. “I’m just glad I was able to help.”

Daniel reached deep into one of his pockets and pulled out a handful of metal, stretching his hand out to Jack. He looked up, meeting Daniel’s eyes with hesitant ones of his own. He let Daniel drop the object into his open hand. The familiar weight of his dogtags surprised him.

“Daniel,” Jack said a few moments later, finally tearing his eyes away from the item in his hands. “Where...how did you get these?”

“Egan gave them to me when we were on Ildanach. I was just waiting for the right time to give them to you.” Daniel offered a hopeful smile.

“Thank you, Daniel,” Jack said, emotion threatening to overcome him.

“You know,” Daniel said, continuing after a moment of silence, letting Jack compose himself a little, “we’ve been cooking up a storm for most of the day. Do you think you’re in the mood for a little food and company?”

“Do I have a choice?” Jack asked, looking up, as he slid the chain over his head, the dogtags clicking reassuringly on his chest.

“Not really.” Daniel smiled.

“Then I guess I’m ready,” Jack said, rising to his sock-clad feet. He placed his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, stopping him from walking away. “Daniel, I really mean what I said. Thank you. If you hadn’t been here last night, things would have been a lot different today.”

Daniel offered him a small smile. “I know. I’m glad I was the one who was here. Whether you want us or not, we’re your family. You’re stuck with us. Come on,” Daniel said, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulders. “I’m starved, let’s get some grub.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jack said, smiling his first true smile in days.

Things were definitely looking up.

The End


End file.
